A Slight Inconvenience
by altwriter
Summary: One of the members of the BAU falls ill, and it's up to House and his team to find out what's wrong. All the while, the BAU still have to find the UNSUB while without the help of one of their agents.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

Author's Note: These two shows contain teams of people that are amazing at what they do; profiling criminals and medical diagnosis respectively. I thought it would be interesting to combine these two shows, therefore, the birth of this story. There will be no formal pairings, except those already depicted in the show. There might be a little Hotch/Prentiss; we'll see how that goes as the story goes on. Also, I am not a doctor. Therefore, the medical information might not be correct. All I have at my disposal is the internet, and whatever I've learned from watching House and other medical shows. So don't get angry if something is wrong.

This story takes place during the current times of both shows. So that would be in the middle of Season 5 for Criminal Minds, and Season 6 for House.

Hope you guys like it.

* * *

1.

"Tyler Beckman! FBI!" Morgan's hand fell on the wooden for the second time. Knocking had not been enough, and he had to raise his voice to make himself possibly heard to the man they were trying to reach. He glanced back at Emily and Hotch, a questioning look on his face. Emily had her hand resting on the Glock attached to her hip, and Hotch had his arms crossed over the Kevlar vest. "The guy's not coming to the door. His car's here, but he might not be home-"

But before the dark-skinned agent could even contemplate kicking down the door, he got his answer as to whether their suspected UNSUB was home. A stocky man with brown hair had run out from behind the house, in a futile attempt to escape unnoticed.

"Hey!" Morgan shouted, and began to run after Beckman, with Hotch and Emily right on his tail. The suspect's house was located in a quaint neighborhood in a small town in New Jersey; the kind of neighborhood, filled with children and families, that you would never suspect a serial killer to be living. Their heavy footfalls disturbed the quiet air of the area, as the three agents weaved in between fences and bushes through backyards.

And then Morgan had finally caught up to Beckman when a fence too tall to leap over blocked his way. Taking a hold of the man's shirt with one hand, Morgan slammed him into the chain-link fence, the other hand grabbing for his handcuffs.

"Why are you running man?" He said nothing; he was breathing too heavily to speak. Yanking him roughly to his feet, Morgan looked around, confused when he did not see Emily and Hotch there with them. Hadn't they been behind him only seconds ago? And then he spotted the two of them, and terror gripped his heart like a vice.

Emily was about twenty feet back, kneeling on the ground, clutching at her chest, coughing violently. Hotch was bent over her, his hand on her back, talking to her. Hotch glanced up at him.

"Get Beckman back to the station. I'm taking Prentiss to the hospital."

* * *

"House? Hou- Oh, there you are." The doctor sat in his office, leaning back in his chair, his legs propped up on his desk. He peered up from behind the magazine he had been flipping through with an amused expression on his face.

"What, this wasn't the first place you looked for me?" Cuddy put her hands on her hips, looking exasperated. The chief of medicine had a feeling that it was going to be a long day.

"Well, you're not usually in your office when you don't have a case. You're usually hiding from me."

"Why would I want to hide from you?" he taunted, pretending to pout.

"House." Now there was a hint of a warning tone to her voice. "Where's the rest of your team? Why aren't you working on a case?" He shrugged.

"I told them to find me an exciting case…down in the clinic."

"Getting your team to do _your _clinic hours is only going to earn you more. And-" She pointed to the stack of files perched haphazardly near the edge of his desk. "-you have plenty of cases right here for you to take. Get to work on one of those, or go down and do your clinic hours."

"But Mom!" He dragged out the vowel, sounding like a whining child.

"House, I mean it. Or else." And with that, she spun around on her heel and walked out the door. Too bad she really never followed through on her threats. Countless times she had threatened to fire him, but it had never happened.

Though, she did have a point. The team hadn't had a case for a few days now, and he hadn't yet spared a glance at the files on his desk. But going through each one was a tedious task. With a grunt, he pulled himself to his feet. He was going to head to the ER. Perhaps he would find something interesting there.

* * *

Author's Note: I know it's short, but it's just a prologue. Please leave a review. I'll try to update as soon as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

2.

"Hotch, honestly. I'm fine; it's just a cold." Since when had Hotch become so overprotective? Taking Emily to the ER because of a simple coughing fit was a bit overboard. Though, now that she thought about it, the unit chief had always been extremely vigilant when it came to his team's health and well-being.

"It's not just a cold. You've been sick for days now, and it hasn't gotten any better." She went to make a retort, but he shook his head. "You could barely breathe back there. I'd rather get you checked out and sure you're alright."

"So keep me out of the field for a few days."

"And get the station sick? I think not. Once we find out what's wrong, I'm getting you a plane ticket back to D.C., and you're not to come back to work until you're better." Emily groaned in annoyance, but with the look Hotch had on his face, she wasn't going to risk arguing with him further. But she hated the idea of going home when people were still being murdered.

She might have been ignorant to just how sick she really seemed, but Hotch noticed how every time she spoke, her words were punctuated with coughs, and how her face was even paler than usual. He was worried about her.

* * *

Sitting unnoticed, or probably just ignored by everyone else in the ER was House, his sneaker-clad feet now resting atop the desk at the nurse's station. See, he was doing what Cuddy asked; looking for a case. And this was much more exciting than reading through the patient files anyway.

Nothing had caught his interest, though, until a couple had entered the room, led by one of the ER doctors. At least, the two of them bickered like a couple; they had been going at it for ages. Normally, a patient prone to arguing would definitely not been the center of his attention. But, he had heard the two of them identify themselves as FBI agents. Now, _that _was interesting.

Using his cane as a support, he got to his feet, and weaved his way through the busy ER to the patient's bed.

"-and you're not coming back to work until you're better." House managed to catch the last snippets of their conversation, before the woman seemingly gave up talking, although there was a hint of defiance still in her eye. As he limped closer and picked up the file hanging at the end of the bed to take a look, the man looked up at him.

"What are you doing? A doctor already checked her out, he said he'd be back soon with the results."

"Just taking a look." His eyes hastily scanned the page, but he was interrupted as one of the ER doctors stepped up beside him, looking quite angry.

"Dr. House, what are you doing? This is my patient."

"Consulting," answered House, never taking his eyes off of the file.

"I don't need a consultation. All Agent Prentiss has is a case of pneumonia. I'm giving her antibiotics and sending her home." Ah, so he had heard right. She was an FBI agent.

"What about the headache? It says here that she reported a headache as one of her symptoms as well." The ER doctor raised his eyebrows, not sure where House was headed with all of this.

"So?"

"A headache could be a sign of a deeper neurological problem." The dark-haired woman sat up at this statement, frowning.

"Excuse me, but, are you saying that I have something wrong with my brain?" she interrupted.

"Agent Prentiss, Agent Hotchner, I am so sorry for the hold up. Sometimes Dr. House here gets a bit carried away." The doctor put his hand on House's shoulder, turning them away from the two, as he lowered his voice.

"House, she had pneumonia, not a brain tumor. Stop scaring my patient, and go back to chasing your zebras. Let me deal with the horses. And, if you don't leave my patients alone, I'm going to alert Dr. Cuddy to your actions."

"Oh, you're going to sic the dean of medicine on me?" retorted House. "I'm so scared." He bit his knuckle in mock worriment. The doctor threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"You know what? Fine, do your tests to find out the diseases she _doesn't _have. Just get out of the ER; away from me." He practically threw the file at House and then stormed off, and House turned back to Agents Hotchner and Prentiss. The two of them both had a mixture of fear and curiosity on their faces, although Agent Hotchner's expression of his feelings was a bit more guarded.

"I'm admitting you."

"But didn't the other doctor say it was just pneumonia?" But House didn't even catch Agent Prentiss's question, because he had already disappeared out the door.

* * *

"Where's Emily and Hotch?" questioned Reid as Morgan entered the conference room the BAU team had made their temporary work space while here in New Jersey.

"And the suspect?" Rossi added as an afterthought.

" He's ready to be interrogated," Morgan answered the latter question first as he plopped down into a chair, running a hand over his head. "Hotch took Emily to the hospital."

"What, why?" Reid's voice rose about an octave, as it normally did when he became worried or excited by any means.

"You know how she hasn't been feeling well?"

"She never said anything about it-" Morgan cut him off.

"You know Emily; she wouldn't say anything about being sick. But we can all tell. Anyway, Hotch, Emily, and I were chasing the UNSUB on foot, and she could barely breath she was coughing so much, so Hotch took her to the ER."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know; Hotch hasn't called me yet."

"Well, it'll do no good worrying about her. We need to get back to the case," Rossi reminded them; waving the case file in the air in case they didn't remember that they had a suspect in custody.

"You're right," agreed Morgan, although honestly, he knew that he and everyone else just wanted to be sure Emily was alright before doing anything else. They all wanted to race to the hospital to be there with her, but they couldn't do that.

Not with an ongoing case.

* * *

Author's Note: I know, this chapter wasn't very exciting. But the next chapter, you'll find out about the case, and the interactions between House's team and the BAU will be more interesting. Just stick with me here.

And don't forget to drop me a review and tell me what you think so far.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

3.

"The clinic isn't _that _far away. What took you guys so long to get here?" House was sitting at the head of the conference table as the four doctors trickled in from the hallway.

"We weren't in the clinic," retorted Foreman, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite House.

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to do my dirty work, but _them_?" He gestured to Chase, Thirteen, and Taub. The three were silent as they sat down, and Foreman just shook his head, dismissing the whole conversation.

"New patient?" Taub questioned, referring to the file that sat in front of House.

"Yup. Interesting too." He slid the folder across the table, and Thirteen picked it up. As she read, the expression on her face became one of confusion.

"What are you talking about, House? These symptoms aren't interesting at all; she has pneumonia."

"That's only what the inept ER doctor said." Chase scoffed at this remark, but House ignored it. "And I'm not talking about the symptoms; I'm talking about the patient."

"What's so interesting about the patient?" said Foreman, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. What was House up to now?  
"She's an FBI agent," replied House, almost sounding smug, for some reason.

"So, you browbeat the ER doctor to get his patient because she's an FBI agent?" Chase said, a tone of surprise tugging at his words. Although, he should've expected like this to come from House. "What are you going to say to Cuddy once she finds out your patient only has pneumonia?" House waved his hand, as if he could physically shoo Chase's question away.

"Cuddy won't care as long as I'm busy with something-"

"I somehow doubt that," muttered Thirteen. House shot her a dirty look before continuing,

"-and pneumonia is only what the ER doctor said she has. He could be wrong-"

"-or this could all be an elaborate plan to annoy Cuddy," interjected Taub. The four doctors flinched as House loudly slammed his cane on the edge of the table.

"Will you all stop interrupting me!" He glanced at their faces, and satisfied that their mouths were shut, he said,

"And she has neurological symptoms."

"And what's that?" snorted Foreman.

"Well, mister neurologist, she has a headache."

"House! Are you kidding me? A headache is nothing. Give the patient antibiotics, and send her home to rest." House shook his head.

"Get a chest x-ray and an MRI of her head. Then we'll go from there." Chase, Thirteen, and Taub all turned their heads to look at Foreman expectantly. He ran a hand over his head, and with a sigh, said,

"Fine. But when it turns out she really does _only _pneumonia, you will send her home without any further tests. FBI agent or not." And with that, he pushed himself away from the table and stomped out of the room.

* * *

"Does House really think there's something seriously wrong with the patient, besides the pneumonia?" Taub wondered aloud as the four doctors strode down the hall towards the patient's room.

"No," huffed Foreman, "he's fascinated with the fact that she's an FBI agent, so he's going to keep the poor woman here. And he's going to think up whatever he can to keep her here as long as possible." He handed the file to Thirteen. "Test her blood, and get House his x-ray and MRI." He turned towards the opposite direction of where they were supposed to be headed.

"Hey!" Chase exclaimed. "Where're you going?"

"To talk to Cuddy."

"House is in trouble," snickered Taub, watching Foreman's figure slowly growing smaller as he made his way down the hallway, towards Cuddy's office.

* * *

"I don't understand why I'm here," grumbled Emily. She felt foolish; dressed in the skimpy hospital gown, lying in a bed with Hotch sitting beside her in a plastic chair. "A neurological problem now; great."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of doctors, Prentiss," chuckled Hotch, in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

"No, no. I'm just sick of hospitals." That was true. It seemed like almost every other week, for some reason one member of the team ended up in the hospital. And it seemed as if she had drawn the short straw, because this was the second time in a span of two months she had taken a trip to the hospital. First, the car accident, now an illness. Hotch had been in the hospital recently, as well as Reid, Garcia, and JJ. The BAU team didn't have the best luck, but a job in the FBI always came with the threat of injury, which made it all the worse when any of them had to be in the hospital for non-work related reasons.

And, even if she had been able to leave the hospital, she would've been allowed to work. Hotch made sure Emily knew that. But sitting safe at home was a terrible feeling when she knew there was an UNSUB out there, raping women and then strangling them to death before dumping them into a lake. Hopefully the suspect they had been chasing before she had been brought to the ER would turn out to be their UNSUB.

The glass door slid open, and three doctors entered the room. That struck both agents as odd; where was Dr. House?

"SSA Aaron Hotchner," Hotch introduced himself, standing up and holding out his hand for the doctors to shake. The three looked surprised at his formality, but accepted the gesture. "I'm SSA Prentiss's boss."

"I'm Dr. Taub." The doctor who looked to be the oldest out of the three spoke. "These are my colleagues, Dr. Hadley," –he pointed to the pretty, young brunette, "and Dr. Chase," and the short-haired, blonde man. Emily decided to voice her query.

"Where's Dr. House? He was the one that admitted me." The doctors glanced at each other, before Dr. Chase replied, surprising Hotch and Emily with an Australian accent.

"House doesn't normally interact with the patients much. We're his diagnostic team." Hotch returned to his seat, and laced his fingers together.

"The ER doctor said Agent Prentiss has pneumonia. Why is there a team of diagnostic doctors in here?" he said. Again, the doctors all looked at each other with a look of unease before Dr. Hadley replied this time,

"Dr. House has reason to believe that Agent Prentiss might have something more serious than pneumonia." Emily frowned.

"More serious?"

"We're not positive just yet about that," offered Taub in an effort to qualm the obvious worry she and Hotch both displayed. "It is still possible that this is just a simple infection. That's why we're here. We're going to do some tests to find out what's wrong with you."

Hotch had to move out of the way as Thirteen situated herself next to Emily's bed so she could take some blood. Taub and Chase left to schedule the MRI and chest x-ray. As she inserted the needle into her arm, Emily, surprisingly, didn't even flinch. Thirteen noticed the thin scar that ran the length of her forearm. It looked as if it had happened pretty recently. The neckline on the gown dipped down, revealing a small scar on her chest as well.

The woman certainly was no stranger to pain.

* * *

"So, you guys work for the FBI, right?" It was Taub who finally broke the awkward silence. The three doctors, along with Hotch, were off to the side of the MRI room, behind the monitors. Hotch stood off behind them, his arms crossed. He hadn't said a word since his question; not even uttering a sentence throughout the whole chest x-ray that had taken place before this.

"Yes." Well, one word answers certainly weren't going to further the conversation, but Taub pushed forward.

"What department do you two work for?"

"The Behavioral Analysis Unit. The building where we're located is in Virginia, but we're here working on a case."

"Just you two?"

"No, no. We work with a team of agents. The rest of them working on the case right now. Agent Prentiss and I were actually in the middle of chasing down a suspect before we came here, which was what brought on her coughing fit." It seemed as if his works had sparked something inside Emily, because as he finished his sentence, the four of them heard her begin to cough.

"Agent Prentiss, I know it's hard, but I need you to try and be as still as possible," instructed Thirteen through the microphone that sat on the desk next to the computer monitor. "If you move, it could mess up the image." Emily cleared her throat, then said,

"Sorry." Hotch shifted anxiously behind the doctors.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"That's what we're going to find out," Chase murmured, peering at the screen. Taub again tried to spark up a discussion.

"What does your Behavioral Analysis Unit do?" Chase raised an eyebrow and tried to, not-so-successfully, subtly elbow Taub's arm.

"What're you doing?" he whispered, leaning closer to the older man. "Trying to suck up to House and find out info about the FBI?"

"No," countered Taub, keeping his voice equally as low, although he suspected the agent was probably wondering what they were whispering about anyway. "I'm trying to make small talk." Chase snorted, but didn't say anything else. Hotch continued as if he hadn't witnessed this exchange.

"It depends on the case. We've worked with serial killers and homicides, as well as hostage negotiations and kidnappings. Our department also works with the FBI academy teaching prospective agents about criminal profiling and psychology." Hotch shot off the information as if he were reading from a book. Hotch sounded detached, as if he weren't really listening to what he was saying, and was only focused on how his colleague was doing.

"Alright, we're done here," said Thirteen before Taub could try again to further the 'small talk' in which Hotch was not interested in the least. "We'll get Agent Prentiss back to her room, and get the results back to Dr. House."

"When will we find out what's wrong?"

"Sir, we still need to work up a differential diagnosis before we can determine exactly what's wrong," answered Chase, easing himself out of the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Sorry." Hotch ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm just..nervous."

"It's understandable," said Taub, with a knowing look on his face.

Emily was already sitting up, now freed from the noisy tube of the MRI machine. Thirteen put a hand on her arm to steady her as she began to settle herself into the wheelchair that they, much to her chagrin, required her to sit in when being transported around the hospital. Thirteen frowned, and asked,

"You didn't have a fever when you were admitted, did you?"

"No.." Emily looked at the woman with a mixture of alarm and confusion.

"Well, you have one now."

"What does that mean?" Thirteen didn't answer right away, quickly debating over what information she should relay back to the patient, and decided on,

"Your infection might be getting worse."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry about the lack of the BAU team in this one. I promise in the next chapter you'll hear a lot more about the case. But we're getting into Emily's case now as well.

Please don't forget to review, and thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Tell me what you think about everything; I'm a bit anxious about keeping everyone in character, because I don't want to make anything OOC. The only thing AU about this piece might be something going on between Emily and Hotch, but we'll just have to see about that.

Next chapter should be sometime in the middle of this week, hopefully.

And one more note: The scar on Emily's chest that I wrote about; well, I don't know if she really does have that, but when she was beaten by Cyrus, I do remember her having a laceration on her chest from being smashed against the mirror. So, I presumed that it may have left a scar. I just wanted to clear up any confusion there may be; I'm not creating any scenarios that haven't happened on the show.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, House MD, or Silence of the Lambs. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

4.

"Have you ever seen _Silence of the Lambs_?" House stood next to Wilson in the cafeteria line, tossing a bag of chips onto the oncologist's tray as he spoke. Wilson looked at his friend in confused amusement.

"Yes. Where are you going with this?" he asked, fumbling with his wallet as he paid for his lunch.

"My patient is a real-life 'Clarice'. Taub told me what she does for a living before he ran off to help with the tests." Wilson looked surprised.

"Really?"

"No, I'm lying," House shot back sarcastically, grabbing half of Wilson's sandwich as they settled at a nearby table. "She's a 'profiler'."

"You know, I would've paid for another sandwich."

"Yet, somehow, this tastes better." Wilson muttered something under his breath about stealing from friends, but made no indication he wished to argue about ethics at the moment.

"House!" A shrill voice cut through the chattering of the cafeteria, and there was the sound of heels clacking on the linoleum floor before Cuddy appeared, looking flustered, with her hands on her hips.

"Did Foreman tell on me again?" he asked through a mouthful of sandwich. "No one likes a tattle-tail."

"House, you cannot treat a patient that has pneumonia just because you think she's interesting," she spat, "Not when you have a stack of files of patients with _real _problems sitting on your desk! And, I got a complaint from the doctor in the ER as well."

"Woah, House; you took the case because she's in the FBI? She's not sick with some rare disease?" said Wilson, incredulous.

"She has a neurological problem as well. An _unexplained _neurological problem," House challenged.

"That's not what Foreman said. And he's a _neurologist_." She dragged out the last word for emphasis. "FBI agent or not, give her antibiotics and discharge her before-"

"House!" Thirteen arrived at Cuddy's side, breathless, as if she had hurried there. "I've got the test results- Oh." She saw the angry expression on Cuddy's face. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," said House, taking the folder from her hand.

"The patient has a pleural effusion."

"Which could be a symptom of pneumonia," said Cuddy, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table.

"Or," countered House, "it could indicate a problem with her heart. What about the MRI?"

"It came back clear."

"And is her headache getting worse?"

"She didn't mention anything about it, but she now has a fever as well." House sat for a moment, chewing on a bite of sandwich as he mused.

"Do both a resting and an exercise EKG to see if the problem is in her heart or her lungs." He twisted to face Cuddy. "Is that alright with you, boss?" She narrowed her eyes, contemplating for a moment.

"You have 24 hours to prove it's not pneumonia." She tapped her watch as a warning, before turning to leave.

"Sounds great!" he shouted to her as she made her way through the bustle that was the lunchtime rush in the hospital. He peered at Thirteen out of the corner of his eye. "Well, what are you waiting for? And make sure Foreman helps this time."

* * *

"Rossi."

"Hey, it's Hotch." The unit chief sat around the corner from Emily's room on an empty bench, his elbows resting on his knees as he spoke into the phone.

"Hotch! How's Prentiss? Is she alright?" He had expected Rossi to be anxious to hear about their colleague's condition; no one had heard from either of them since Emily had arrived at the hospital.

He sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. The ER doctor said it was pneumonia, but then she was admitted by a Dr. House, who said that her headache means she has neurological problems-"

"What? That's insane."

"-I know. And now she has a fever, and they're doing more tests."

"Damn. She was just in the hospital, too." Rossi paused. "Unfortunately, I have some bad news as well."

"What is it? How's the case going?"

"Tyler Beckman is definitely not our UNSUB. Morgan and Reid went back and checked out his house, and I talked to him. This guy does not fit the profile at all."

"So why was he running?"

"Turns out he has a stash of dope in his basement, and thought we were after him for that."

"Great. Well, at least we managed to catch someone that needed to be caught, just not the right guy." He stood up, and began to walk back towards Emily's room. "I'm going to head back to be with you guys."

"No, Hotch. We've got it under control. We have the profile, we just need to find our UNSUB. Stay with Prentiss."

"I'll send Reid or someone to be with her. But, right now there's nothing I can do here, and it'll be for the better if we can catch this UNSUB so we can all focus on Prentiss." He hung up before the older agent could try to dissuade him any further.

Truthfully, he was going a bit stir-crazy. His anxiety over Emily's condition, as well as the case, was too much to bear. He couldn't voice his worries to Emily; he didn't want to scare her. And, it would be a better use of his time to go back to the station to work on the case, rather than pace the halls here.

Pocketing his phone, he headed back into Emily's room to say goodbye.

* * *

"Hello again." Thirteen entered the room, this time with Foreman trailing along behind her. "This is my colleague, Dr. Foreman."

"Nice to meet you." Emily sounded tired, and the bags under her eyes certainly didn't prove this fact wrong, though she did seem unusually lethargic.

"We're just here to do a couple more tests."

"Whatever you have to do." Foreman immediately set to work readying the EKG. Thirteen looked around for a moment.

"Where's your boyfriend?" This got Foreman's interest, as he looked up from what he was doing with curiosity. The word had kind of slipped out, although it seemed that the pair were more of a couple, or at least very close friends, rather than just colleagues.

"Boyfriend?" repeated Emily, her eyebrows raised. "Agent Hotchner is my boss. We're..friends. And he left to call the team to check up on the case." Although she denied a relationship with her colleague, both doctors noticed a slightly pinker tinge to her cheeks at Thirteen's accusation, although it could've just been from her fever.

Foreman slid on his chair to Emily's bedside. "We're going to do an EKG, which monitors the electrical activity in your heart so we can check to see if there are any problems."

"Wait, I thought the problem was in my lungs?"

"The chest x-ray we took showed that you have a pleural effusion in your lungs, which is when excess fluid accumulates in the pleural cavity of the lungs. While it can be caused by pneumonia, it can also be caused by a problem with the heart. We just need to cover all the bases first, before we can work up a diagnosis." She seemed satisfied with this answer, and the two doctors were ready to start the procedure when the glass door to the room slid open.

Hotch was an unfamiliar face to Foreman, so he introduced himself as the agent walked inside. "Eric Foreman. I'm one of Agent Prentiss's doctors. We were just explaining that we discovered she has a pleural effusion in her lungs, so we're going to do some tests to determine the cause of it."

"Aaron Hotchner." He turned to Emily. "I just spoke with Rossi. I think I'm going to need to head back to help with the case for now, but I'll send someone else to be here with you."

"No, Hotch! I'll be fine by myself, and the team is already down one agent; you don't need to have the disadvantage of being without two." Hotch shook his head.

"Prentiss, I'm not going to leave you here alone."

"But-" He put up his hand.

"Don't argue with me. I will be back here as soon as I can." Before Emily could oppose his wishes any further, Hotch said a quick goodbye before heading out of the door as Foreman and Thirteen exchanged an amused look.

* * *

"Sorry I took so long to get here." Hotch strode into the conference room where Rossi, JJ, Reid, and Morgan were currently spread around the table.

"How's Emily?" said Reid, hopeful for some good news. Rossi had told them Hotch was going to head back to the station to work on the case, although no one was very happy that it seemed that Emily would then be alone at the hospital. Rossi also hadn't explained how Emily was doing; only told them that Hotch would have news when he arrived. No one really knew why Emily had to stay at the hospital.

"Originally she was diagnosed with pneumonia, but another doctor had her admitted because he thinks there might be something more to it. She has a fever now, and right before I left I was told she has a pleural effusion."

"What's that?" wondered Morgan aloud, then looked to Reid, who sat up in his seat as he began to excitedly explain,

"A pleural effusion is a buildup of fluid in the lungs. It's normally caused by cirrhosis, or an infection in the lungs such a pneumonia or tuberculosis, but it can also be caused by congestive heart failure, as well as many other things." Everyone else in the room was slack-jawed.

"Kid, do you read medical textbooks at night for fun or something?" Reid just shrugged.

"Thanks for the explanation, but we should really get back to the case." Hotch clasped his hands together. "Let's go over the profile again."

"Because our UNSUB rapes the victims, and then chokes them to death with his own hands, we know he gets off on power," began Rossi, glancing over the crime scene pictures of the last three victims. "Fingerprints and DNA were found on the bodies, although none of it matched anything in our databases, so he doesn't have a criminal record."

"Because we haven't found any evidence of a blitz attack to initially subdue the victims with a hit to the head, or anything of the sort, we think he may be tricking the victims into going with him," added Reid. "He's not the type of guy that you would feel nervous around. He seems charming, but is really a sociopath. We know he's not impotent because of the rape, and it is possible he has a girlfriend or wife, and perhaps children as well. He's probably around his late twenties or early thirties, because his kills are incredibly organized, and he has enough strength to subdue a fully grown woman as he rapes her without the aid of rope or another type of restraint."

"We know he holds his victims for one full day, and he would need privacy to do that," Rossi said. "He doesn't have that privacy in his own home if he has a family, so it is possible he may have a truck or an empty building he is taking his victims to."

"The stressor may be that he is going through a divorce his wife, or a fight, or he may have been demoted in his job, or even fired. This is why he rapes his victims; he needs that feeling of control in his life, and this is the only way he can get it," said Hotch, flipping through the file. Beckman had fit the profile; he had a large van he used for work, and he had recently begun a divorce with his wife. Also, he had been in contact with the first victim through work, which made him an even more likely suspect. But it turns out he had just been a dead lead.

"Is it possible this guy works in a bar or something?" questioned JJ, leaning forward on her elbows.

"What would make you say that?" said Morgan.

"Actually, JJ has a point," Rossi murmured. "We think the guy probably has a successful job, right? Well, if the stressor is his loss of job, then it is possible he picked up work at a bar. That could also be how he's finding his victims."

"I'll call Garcia," said Hotch, pushing his chair away from the table as he brought his phone to his ear. "We need to update all the officers and the detective working on this case on the profile. And Reid-"

"Yes?"

"-I want you to go to the hospital and stay with Emily for the time being. I don't want her to be alone. It's Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital." Before Reid had a chance to say anything, Hotch had already left the room. The younger agent wondered why Hotch had chosen him to go be with Emily at the hospital; JJ or Morgan, or even Rossi, would've been equally as suitable. But he didn't mind, because he knew Emily would do the same for him.

"You are speaking to the omniscient Penelope Garcia." The technical analyst's cheery voice greeted Hotch as she picked up the phone.

"Garcia, it's Hotch."

"What is it you need, my lovely boss?" He couldn't hold back a quiet chuckle before he continued,

"I need you to look up anyone in the area that has recently lost a job, and cross reference it with people that work in any bar that's located in the town."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"Yes, I need you to look up another name."

"Whatever you need, sir."

"I want a full background check on Dr. Gregory House."

"A doctor? Is he a suspect?"

"No, he's Prentiss's doctor."

"Oh god, Emily's in the hospital?" Hotch had forgotten Garcia hadn't known, although he assumed Morgan or another one on the team would've told her beforehand. "Is she alright?"

"She's been under the weather for a few days, and she, Morgan, and I were chasing down Beckman when had trouble breathing. I took her to the ER, and she was admitted to the hospital," he explained, attempting to summarize the whole day's events in a couple short sentences.

"Oh, god."

"Garcia, she'll be fine. I need you to focus."

At least, he had to hope she'd be fine.

* * *

Author's Note: Hope you guys liked this chapter. It is a bit unsettling to me, though, that as the number of chapters increase, the number of reviews decrease. It went from five reviews for the first chapter, to two for the third. Are you guys losing interest, or what? Please let me know if you are, and what you think of the story so far.

It's only going to get more intense from here.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, House MD, or Silence of the Lambs. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

5.

Hotch heard the quick clicking of Garcia's fingers flying over the keyboard as she typed in the name.

"Find anything?" he asked, anxious to heard about what Garcia had found.

"Yes! Dr. Gregory House, born June 11, 1959 to John and Blythe House. His father was a Marine Corps pilot, and he traveled around the world because he was always moving to different bases."

"Sounds like Emily," he mused.

"Mhmm, that it does, my dear." He heard more typing, and Garcia continued, "He went to Johns Hopkins for undergrad, and was up for an internship at the Mayo Clinic, but it looks like he was caught cheating and was expelled. He then finished his medical education at the University of Michigan. He's been working at Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital for a while now, and..oh wow."

"What is it?"

"It looks like just recently he was released from a mental institution after a very short stay."

"What for?"

"That information is private, but I could still get it if you want.."

"No, no. This is all I need. Thank you."

"Anything for you, sir. I'll get right on the other information you need." He was about to hang up when she quickly said, "And Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't leave me in the dark about Emily."

"I won't. Whenever I get any more news on her, I'll make sure and tell you." She deserved to know; Emily was her friend.

"Thank you."

* * *

After wandering around the hospital and getting directions from a nurse, Reid finally made his way to Emily's room. The hospital was incredibly modern-looking; most of the walls surrounding the patient's rooms were glass. It was very different from the hospitals he had been in before.

"Hey, Emily." He sidled into the room, sliding the glass door shut behind him. It scared him to see how pale and tired she looked.

"Reid!" She sounded happy to see him. "I told Hotch to not send anyone; at least not until the case is over."

"You know that none of us are going to leave you alone here." She rolled her eyes. Thirteen and Foreman had stood up when Reid walked in, and he shook both their hands.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

"I'm Dr. Foreman, this is Dr. Hadley." He paused. "You're a doctor?"

"Not a medical doctor." He chuckled nervously. "Don't worry; I'm leaving that job to you guys." Foreman smiled, and nodded.

"We just finished up doing an EKG. We're going to have to take Agent Prentiss to another room to do the exercise EKG. We're doing this to find out if the problem is in her heart, or her lungs," explained Thirteen.

Emily got into a wheelchair, and then the four traveled down the hallway to a procedure room that contained a treadmill, and a smaller, glass-walled room to the side for observation.

Reid noticed how slowly Emily moved, how it looked like it pained her to even breathe. Foreman went to help her out of the wheelchair and onto the treadmill that would be used for the test, but she waved his hand away.

"I'm fine," she insisted. That was Emily; stubborn. Morgan had told him how, at the hospital after the car accident, she had also insisted she was fine, when she obviously wasn't. It was the same scenario at Cyrus's compound, and it was the same case here, although he knew Emily would reject any babying.

Once the test had been set up and explained, the three had retreated into the side room while Emily began at a slow pace on the treadmill. The purpose of the test was to increase her heart rate to a target rate, and see if any changes occurred with the rhythm of her heart as she ran.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" He couldn't help but question the test. He knew they were doctors, and that they knew what they were doing, but Emily had trouble breathing beforehand, so how were her lungs going to be able to function during exercise? "Exercise was what triggered the coughing fit she had before. It is a good idea to put more stress on her lungs?"

"We need to do this to find out if the problem is really in her lungs," said Chase, slightly annoyed that the younger man was questioning them. "Because a pleural effusion can-"

"-also be caused by congestive heart failure. I know. I'm sorry." He sighed. "I'm just nervous."

"Funny," commented Thirteen. "Agent Hotchner said the same thing."

"It makes sense, doesn't it? We want our colleague to be alright." He shut his mouth after that, afraid of offending the doctors further. He saw how Chase stiffened when he first started to speak.

Emily's pace began to falter a bit, and Thirteen spoke into a microphone, "Are you still feeling alright, Agent Prentiss?"

"Yeah," answered Emily, shaking her head. Her actions betrayed her words, though, as she drew in a deep breath before beginning to cough.

"Just a couple more minutes."

The time passed, and thankfully Emily managed to make it through.

"Heart rhythm stayed normal throughout the whole procedure," noted Chase. "The problem isn't in her heart."

* * *

"We have the results of the EKG." Foreman and Thirteen had found both Chase and Taub in the lab, and then the four had made their way to House's office.

"Are you going to tell me, or just stand there?"

"It was normal. The problem isn't in her heart." House swung his legs off of his desk and limped into the conference room.

"Differential diagnosis time." On the whiteboard, he scribbled 'fever', 'pleural effusion', 'headache', and then at the bottom, 'pneumonia' with a question mark next to it. "What else?"

"Her white blood cell count is up," offered Taub. "And in the initial physical examination her lymph nodes were found to be enlarged."

"Both of those could be signs that her body is battling an infection," Foreman said, taking his seat at the head of the conference table.

"But what else could these symptoms point to?"

"Tuberculosis," said Thirteen.

"Good. What else?"

"Lupus. It weakens her immune system, which is why she gets the infection," Foreman interjected.

"What about Sarcoidosis?" said Chase, crossing his arms.

"No. It would cause granulomas in the lungs, not a pleural effusion," House said, shaking his head. "Come on Chase, off your game?"

"Granulomas could be mistaken for a pleural effusion on an x-ray, and there have been cases of sarcoidosis presenting with a pleural effusion."

"Do a PPD to test for Tuberculosis-"

"That'll take days to get the result!" Thirteen exclaimed. House frowned.

"I wasn't finished. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, also do an ANA and a CBC to test for Lupus."

"What if it's a toxin that's irritating her lungs?" suggested Foreman.

"Wouldn't her colleagues be sick as well?" Thirteen said. "And they travel all the time. None of them stay in one place long enough to get sick."

"How about drugs?" Chase decided to speak again, as he tapped his pen against the table.

"Nothing showed up in the blood test we did," said Thirteen.

"She's in the FBI, guys," Foreman countered. "I'm pretty sure they would have zero tolerance for an agent that has a drug problem."

"She never said anything about it, either."

"Everybody lies," House reminded them. "Do a tox screen, test for everything you can think of; some drugs can cause pleural effusions. Do a thoracentesis as well; it'll help her breathe easier for at least a short while, and we can test a sample of the pleural fluid. And, if we don't get any information from that, go with Chase's theory of Sarcoidosis, and do a bronchoscopy and a lung biopsy."

* * *

"Ever heard of knocking?" Wilson looked up from the paperwork he had been doing as House barged into his office.

"Knock, knock," he retorted, plopping down on the sofa, putting his feet up on the armrest.

"You know, my patients sit there. I'd like it to be clean."

"I need a consultation." Of course House would just disregard any of Wilson's wishes. That was nothing new.

"On your FBI agent patient?"

"Yes." House quickly listed her symptoms. Wilson pushed his paperwork aside and put his hands to his head, massaging his temples as he thought.

"Well, it could be lymphoma, and the pleural effusion could be malignant if it is so."

"So, do a biopsy. Even if it isn't cancer, it could possibly help us in diagnosing whatever infection she has. The thoracentesis will help us determine that as well." House stood up, ready to leave. "And, while you're doing the biopsy, see if you can find out anything more about our 'Clarice'."

Wilson sighed as House left his office. He was referring to the patient as a fictional character's name..This was bad. And, normally, he would have one of his team members do the biopsy, but it seemed that he was insinuating that he wanted Wilson to do it. It seemed House was still more interested in the patient than what was wrong with her, and he knew that House could get obsessive at times. He didn't even know if the patient had anything seriously wrong.

It seemed as if House was just interested in what this woman did for the FBI.

He shook his head, thinking that this was just asking for a lawsuit.

* * *

"How're you feeling?" The doctors had brought Emily back to her room after the EKG, and now Reid and Emily sat alone. The room had been filled with silence until Reid decided to ask a question that probably had an obvious answer.

"Like crap," she answered matter-of-factly. "How's the case going?"

"The suspect you guys were chasing isn't our UNSUB," he said, "but we did go over the profile again, and we're getting somewhere now." She cocked a brow.

"Care to elaborate?" Reid shook his head.

"You should be resting."

"Thinking does not involve physical effort," she gibed.

"Hotch wouldn't be happy if he found out."

"Are you going to tell him?" Emily was relentless, and Reid's shoulders sagged.

"We think the stressor may be that the UNSUB was recently fired from a job, explaining the rape," he said.

"Makes sense," she agreed, "he feels like he lost control of his life because of his loss of job. He needs to get that control back, so he rapes the women."

"Yes, and we think he may have gotten a job at a bar, or a similar place, which is where he's finding his victims." Emily had been about to answer when another coughing fit came on. He stood up, putting his hand on her back.

"You alright?" he asked when the coughing had calmed down a bit. She nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. There was a smear of blood when she brought it away from her mouth.

"Everything alright in here?" Taub and Chase had entered the room. Emily nodded, but Reid answered worriedly,

"There's blood in her sputum."

"That isn't anything to be worried about; it's because of the pleural effusion," comforted Taub, smiling. After Reid and the two doctors had made their introductions, Chase said,

"We're here to do another few tests." Emily nodded, but Reid could tell that she was exhausted by all of this. Being treated like a pin cushion was obviously not a position she wanted to be in, as no one would. The brave face was just a façade. "We have to take more blood, and we're going to do a PPD to test for Tuberculosis."

"Also, we're going to do a thoracentesis. We'll remove some of the fluid from your lungs to test to see what could be causing the pleural effusion, and it'll also help you breathe a bit easier for a bit," added Taub.

Emily just nodded again. This was so unlike her, and, frankly, it was scaring Reid. Normally, she'd at least be trying to strike up some type of conversation, trying to make light of the situation. That was her personality; always making an attempt to lift everyone's moods. Emily was the strong one, the one that kept everyone moving forward. She was the maternal figure of the team, even though she wasn't the one with the baby.

But now, here she was, looking so feeble, so pale, lying in that bed. The only indication that the normal Emily was hidden in that body was the stubbornness she had shown when asking him to tell her about the case. Even so, she was much more lethargic than normal. This illness, whatever it was she had, was really taking a toll on her.

Taub poked a needle under the skin on the inside of her forearm for the PPD skin test and drew a circle around the area with a pen before taking more blood. Chase was readying a terrifyingly large needle. Reid saw Emily's eyes widen in fear for a split second as she caught a glance of it. It seemed Taub noticed too, because as he pulled out the needle from the crook of her arm, he said in an attempt to distract her,

"How many agents do you two work with?"

"Including Agent Reid and I," Emily said quietly, "seven agents make up the BAU team."

"Big group," he commented. "You guys all get along?" The corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile.

"Yeah," she replied, "we're like a family." Reid couldn't help but smile as well. After all the team had been through; Elle and Gideon leaving, Reid's abduction, both he and Emily being held hostage in Cyrus's compound, the SUV explosion, Garcia being shot, Haley's death…the list went on, but the team had always managed to stick together. And he had no doubt in his mind that if it hadn't been for all of them, he would never have been able to make it through anything.

And for Emily, well, her family had scarcely been around. Her mother was always busy, and Emily had always been carted around all over the world because of her job. It was nice to finally feel a sense of belonging.

"Taub, you ready?" Chase's question disturbed their reminiscing. The older man nodded. "We're going to do the thoracentesis now. We're going to insert a needle in between two ribs, into the pleural cavity, and remove some of the liquid for examination."

There was a buzzing, and Reid removed his phone from his pocket. "It's Hotch." He looked up at Emily, silently questioning whether she wanted him to leave or not.

"Go. The case should be your top priority right now. And tell Hotch not to worry about me; I don't want his mind on something else."

"I'll be right back." He rushed out of the room, squeezing his lanky body through the door, and through the glass wall she saw him answer the phone and begin walking down the hall. Taub stood up and shut the blinds.

Emily was made to sit up and lean forward, resting her arms on a table. The back of her hospital gown was undone, and she felt the cold antiseptic on her back. She was now glad that Reid had left, for she felt horribly exposed.

"I'm going to give you an injection to numb the area first," said Chase. "During the procedure, try not to talk or cough too much." Emily smirked silently; not coughing might be a challenge. She was having coughing fits more and more frequently.

She then felt a prick, and a stinging sensation as the needle slid into her flesh and the medicine was injected. "You may feel a pulling sensation or pressure in your chest during the procedure. If you have any shortness of breath or chest pain, you need to tell us."

"Okay." A few moments passed as they waited for the medicine to take effect, and then she felt them insert the needle. It was an unpleasant situation, but the numbing injection made the pain bearable.

But then, suddenly, Emily felt a stabbing pain in her chest as she breathed in, and felt as if she could not catch her breath.

"You alright?" Taub asked, putting a hand on her arm. She shook her head, bringing her hand to her chest.

"I can't breathe," she coughed. He had an alarmed look on his face as he and Chase glanced at each other.

"Did you hit her lung?" The monitors hooked up to Emily started beeping. "Her blood pressure is falling. You need to get the needle out!" She was clutching at her chest now, unable to stop coughing. As quickly as he could, Chase withdrew the needle, and Taub gently pushed Emily onto her back before pressing the stethoscope to her chest.

It seemed Reid had heard the commotion, for he rushed back into the room, his phone clutched in his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Her lung's collapsed."

* * *

"Hey, Hotch." Reid was reclined against the wall, sitting on a bench located in a waiting area near Emily's room. He hadn't wanted to leave Emily, but she was so adamant that the case come before her.

"How's Prentiss doing?" was the unit chief's response almost immediately after Reid had finished his sentence. Reid wondered if Hotch was calling about the case as well, or just to check on their colleague.

"They did a test earlier to determine if the problem is in her heart, but it's not, so then they took more blood and now are doing a thoracen- taking some of the fluid from her lungs to test." While he was speaking, he realized that Hotch, although the man was incredibly smart, would probably not know the medical term 'thoracentesis'.

"That doesn't answer my question, Reid. How is she _doing_?"

"She seems..lethargic. You know Emily," he answered truthfully, "I would expect her to be fighting the doctors right now; trying to convince them she's okay. But she wanted me to tell you not to worry about her and focus on the case." Hotch was quiet for a moment as he digested this information. Reid decided not to tell him that Emily had wanted to know how the case was going; he would not approve. "How's the case going?"

"Garcia did a cross-reference with anyone who has lost a job in the last two months with anyone who has recently gotten a job at a bar, restaurant, or club." Hotch's tone of voice had returned from concerned to strictly professional.

"And?"

"We found a couple of matches, but we have nothing to connect these guys to our victims."

"So what do we do now?"

"Wait for something to happen. That's all we _can _do." Hotch heard a shuffling on the other end of the line as Reid quickly stood up. There was a rapid beeping coming from the direction of Emily's room, and he was alarmed. The phone still held to his ear, he sprinted down the hall. Yep, the beeping was definitely coming from her room, but the blinds were closed so he couldn't see anything.

"Damn," he muttered, and Hotch said,

"What's going on?" But Reid didn't answer. On the other end of the line, he heard a door open a close, and Reid's voice asking,

"What's wrong?" Then more silence, until he felt his stomach drop as someone answered,

"Her lung's collapsing."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the longer-than-usual wait between chapters. Also, I apologize for the lack of House and the rest of the BAU team in this. It's a bit hard to include every single character in each chapter. Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter, and don't forget to drop one for this one as well and tell me what you thought, or if you have any suggestions, or anything else. Oh, and I'm sorry as well if any of my medical information is incorrect. I'm not a doctor.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, House MD, The Wizard of Oz, or Silence of the Lambs. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

6.

"Reid? What's going on?" Hotch paced frantically back-and-forth on the sidewalk in front of the police station, the phone pressed so hard to his ear the plastic could've molded itself to the shape of his head. The only sound coming from the other end of the line was muffled shouting, and then there was a crackling noise before he heard Reid, breathless, answer,

"Her lung collapsed."

"I heard that." He put a hand on his head, glad that the rest of the team had stayed in the conference room; he didn't want them to see him like this. "Is she alright?"

"I-I think so." Reid sounded shaky. "She couldn't breathe..they inserted a syringe in her chest, I think to remove the air that is putting pressure on her lungs, causing it to collapse."

"Agent Reid?" Now came a voice that Hotch recognized as Taub's.

"Hotch, hold on a second," he said quickly, "Is she alright?" Hotch strained his ears in an attempt to catch the conversation going on.

"She's stable now. We had to insert a chest tube," he explained, "to relieve the pressure in her lungs-" Ah, so Reid had been right. "-and we'll need to keep it in until we determine the cause of the pleural effusion. Luckily, we were able to extract some of the fluid before her lung collapsed."

"Thank you, doctor." Again, he spoke into the phone. "They said she's stable and they-"

"-Yeah, I heard," Hotch interrupted. He groaned inwardly, wishing he were there, physically able to see that Emily was alright. There was the sound of footsteps behind him, and he twisted around to see Rossi heading towards him. "I need to go. But just..Just stay there and call me if anything else happens."

"Will do." He hung up just as Rossi reached him.

"We were getting worried in there," said the older agent, gesturing back towards the building. "Thought you ran off." He peered at his friend with curiosity; Hotch seemed incredibly shaken. "What's wrong?"

"I was just on the phone with Reid."

"Did something happen with Emily?" Rossi's whole demeanor turned serious.

"Her lung collapsed."

"Is she alright?" His eyes widened in alarm.

"She's stable for now, but…" Rossi cocked a brow.

"But what?" Hotch ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

"I don't know what I'll do if something happens to her-If she.." He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Has something been going on between you and Emily?" The two had been growing closer recently, but so had the whole team. It was amazing how death could bring people together.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know." The whole team was adept at reading behavior, and if Hotch and Emily had begun a relationship of some sort, he assumed that every one of them would know. Yet, there had been no signs, obvious or not, but both of them were rather guarded with their emotions most of the time.

Hotch decided to stop feigning ignorance. "No, no; nothing like that. It's just that, ever since I was stabbed by Foyet, and Haley died, Emily's been there for me. And I just feel so helpless now, because I can't do anything to help her. And," he sighed, "I can't lose someone so close to me again."

"Yes, you can." Rossi put a hand on Hotch's shoulder. "We can't do anything more here until something happens. Go and be with her; you won't be missing anything. I'm sure it'll make her happy to just have you there." He didn't know what exactly the state of his colleagues' relationship was at the moment; whether they were just friends, or something more, even thought Hotch had denied that. But what he did know what that Hotch cared for Emily very much, and sitting here at the police station would do nothing to soothe his qualms.

"Reid's with her, though."

"If anything, Reid could go over the geographic profile one more time." He patted Hotch's shoulder. "Stop making excuses. I'm sure we can handle one case by ourselves without you looking over our shoulders, Aaron."

"Thank you, Dave." As Hotch turned to head towards his SUV, Rossi called out after him,

"Say hi to Emily for us," and then added, "And tell her we'll see her soon."

* * *

House was deeply engrossed in the patient's file as the four doctors entered the room.

"Have you guys looked at her medical history?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the papers.

"Of course we have," answered Taub, taking a seat at the table, looking a bit confused. "It's not relevant to her issues now."

"Perhaps not relevant," pointed out House, "but it is interesting."

"House, we should focus on the diagnosis right now," said Foreman, following suit to Taub and taking his spot at the table. Thirteen and Chase did the same. House ignored him.

"She was admitted to an ER in Colorado to get some bruising checked out..Bruises all over her body, and lacerations on her chest and arms." He looked up. "Doesn't sound like something that was caused by an accident, huh?"

"House," growled Foreman, warningly. Still, he was ignored.

"And," he said, dragging out the vowel, "about a month ago, she got into a car accident."

"There are car accidents every day," Thirteen said, leaning her head against her hand. "That's nothing special."

"There's something in a foreign language here too." House flipped to another sheet of paper. "Chase, maybe you can read it?" he asked sarcastically. Chase rolled his eyes, and said,

"I wonder if that's where she got the scars from."

"Scars?" House leaned forward with interest.

"Chase," groaned Foreman. "Stop feeding into it." He turned to House, and said gravely, "Her lung collapsed, House."

"Is that why my pager was going off?" He tapped the black device on the table before glaring knowingly at Chase. "And why did her lung collapse?" The Australian bit his pen, reluctant to answer.

"…I must've nicked her lung during the thoracentesis."

"Her fever is getting worse," said Thirteen, breaking up the staring contest House had initiated.

"But we don't have the results from any of the tests yet," countered Taub. "So we can't really do anything until we have those. We already started her on antibiotics, but they don't seem to be working."

"Wilson suggested Lymphoma. He's going to do a biopsy."

"If you're so interested in our patient," interjected Thirteen, "then why don't you just go see her yourself?"

"Come on, you know I don't do that," he scoffed. "I'm like the Wizard of Oz; always working behind the curtain." Using his cane, he pointed to the white board. "Come on; what else could she have?"

"Well, because she isn't getting better with antibiotics, we know that the pneumonia is just a symptom of whatever she has," said Taub.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

"Encephalitozoon cuniculi."

"Only if she's been hanging around rabbits." The room was silent for a few moments before Foreman suggested,

"Legionnaires' disease."

"But wouldn't the antibiotics have helped her if she had Legionnaires?" said Chase.

"Not if her immune system has been weakened." He paused. "She's in the FBI; probably works late nights, right? That, coupled with the fact that she's been in the hospital recently, could've done a number on her immune system."

"Put her on Rifampicin. It treats TB as well, so if she starts getting better on the drug then we know it's one of the two." He got to his feet. "I'm going to tell Cuddy that our patient _does not _have pneumonia."

* * *

Hotch's knuckles were white as he clutched the steering wheel of his SUV, swerving into the hospital parking lot. The ride to the hospital had been a blur; he only cared about getting back to Emily as fast as possible.

The sun was setting, and he realized that it had only been that morning that he had brought her to the ER. How could one's condition deteriorate so severely in such a short amount of time? At this rate, he was afraid to see how much worse off Emily would be tomorrow.

He had hopped out of his car and hurried into the hospital, and made it to her room in record time. Reid sat next to her bed, his head bowed. Emily looked as if she were sleeping, so Hotch tapped once on the glass wall to get the younger agent's attention. Reid looked up, and he beckoned for him to leave the room.

"How's she doing?" Hotch asked as soon as Reid had shut the door behind him.

"She's the same for now, although I think her fever went up a little," Reid replied with a frown. "She's sleeping now; they gave her a sedative after inserting the chest tube." He shuffled nervously. "Why did you come back so soon?"

"We're not getting anywhere with the case now, so I thought it would be best if I came back to stay with her." He paused. "But I want you to go over the geographical profile one more time. There might be something we missed."

"Alright." Hotch gave him a pat on the back as he left. Quietly, so as not to disturb the slumbering Emily, he slid open the door and reclaimed Reid's chair as his own at her bedside.

Even though only a few hours had passed since he last saw her, she seemed so much paler and fragile than she had than the last time he had been there. Perhaps it had something to do with the mass of bandages on her side that were keeping the chest tube in place.

Her eyes flickered open, and she scanned his face blearily for a moment as her senses got reacquainted with the conscious world.

"Hey," he said softly.

She blinked a couple of times, in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that clouded her vision. "You're back? We caught the UNSUB?"

"No," he answered, sadly. "But we've hit a bit of a dead end for now. Garcia was able to find a couple of suspects, but we have no solid reason to take them in, besides the fact that they fit our profile."

"Oh." She attempted to push herself to a sitting position, but her hand flew to her side as she winced. Hotch stood up, worried, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright? I can get a doctor; maybe they can give you more morphine to take the pain away." Emily shook her head.

"No, no Hotch. I'm fine." He snorted, and she sighed. "Alright. Maybe I'm not fine, but I don't want to be anymore drugged up than I already am." She gestured to the IV connected to her arm. "Sent Reid back?"

"He's going to go over the geographic profile once more, see if he can find something we missed." He settled back into the chair, and Emily's hands returned to her lap, the pain having receded slightly at the moment.

"How's everyone else doing?" Of course, it would be just like her to be concerned about everyone else.

"Worried about you," he answered truthfully.

"I don't want them to be." She looked down at her hands, fiddling with a loose string on the blanket. "You all should be focused on solving the case."

"None of us can focus solely on the case with you in this situation." She remembered back to when Hotch had been stabbed; it wasn't like him to be late ever, and even though they went on with the case, his absence had still been right up there with catching the UNSUB. "You know that."

The door slid open again, and in walked an unfamiliar brown-haired man with an attractive, slightly boyish-looking face. He was wearing a white doctor's coat. Was there _another_ doctor working with House that they hadn't met yet?

"I'm Dr. James Wilson." He put on a bright smile as he shook Hotch's hand.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner; I'm Agent Prentiss's colleague." Wilson pulled up a chair, taking a seat on the other side of Emily's bed.

"Nice to meet you both." Emily greeted him quietly as well. "I'm an oncologist. Dr. House asked me to consult on your case." Hotch and Emily shared a worried glance. Wilson paused for a moment. "It seems that you may have Lymphoma. It's a cancer that begins in the lymphocytes of the immune system."

"Oh god." Emily took in a deep breath. "Cancer." She felt Hotch pat her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"I'm going to do a fine-needle aspiration biopsy of your lymph nodes, and we'll go from there."

"But, how would cancer in her lymph nodes affect her lungs?" said Hotch. This was something Wilson hadn't wanted to get into just yet. He thought for a moment on how to answer.

"It is possible that, if you do have cancer, it could have spread to your lungs as well."

Emily said nothing, letting the information she had just received sink in. Something like hearing you might have cancer was a bit hard to grasp. Wilson was surprised at how well she was keeping her emotions under control; Hotch wasn't.

"I'll need you to sign this consent for the biopsy."

"It's nice that one of your colleagues is willing to stay with you." Wilson had taken Emily into a different room for the procedure. Hotch had scurried off after saying something about wanting to talk to House's superior.

"I don't want him here," admitted Emily, glancing warily at the sterilized needle that Wilson had set aside. He looked perplexed.

"Why not?"

"We were in the middle of working on a case when Hotch- Agent Hotchner brought me to the ER, and I was admitted. The rest of the team is still working on the case," she said, "And he should be back with them. I wish _I _was there with them."

"You all are workaholics, huh?" He chuckled. "Although, it's always good to have something there for you." Emily didn't respond to this, only asked,

"Why haven't I seen Dr. House since he admitted me?" He sighed.

"Dr. House doesn't normally work one-on-one with his patients; he leaves that to his team. He's more of a behind the scenes type of guy." He was trying to put it lightly, although there really was no excuse for House not interacting with his patients. Emily said nothing more, but didn't seem exactly satisfied with this reply either.

"I need you to move your arm up and lay it next to your head." Trying to distract her from the pain of the needles used to numb the area, he said, "You're eager to get back to work, right? Do you like what you do?"

"You know I work for the FBI, right?" Wilson nodded.

"It's in your file."

"Well, 'like' is probably not the right word." She remembered having a similar conversation with her mother. "It's like if I were to ask you the same thing. Do you like what _you _do? Do you like watching people die of cancer?"

"Well, my patients don't always die, Agent Prentiss," he said, "but no, I do not."

"It's the same with my colleagues and I. We don't enjoy seeing people killed when it could've possibly been prevented. We both-" She stopped, wincing as Wilson inserted the biopsy needle, and then continued in a somewhat pained tone of voice, "-save people as well. That's how we stop from going crazy with all the horrible things we see. But the thing is, there may, someday, be a cure to cancer. That's not going to happen with kidnappings, murders, and rapes. It's never going to stop."

* * *

Author's Note: I was planning on adding more to this chapter, but it's already very long, so I'm splitting it into two. The next chapter should be up sometime early this week, perhaps even tomorrow, if I'm not too busy.

Thank you so much for the reviews; I really do appreciate them. Don't forget to leave me one to tell me what you thought about this chapter as well.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Mind or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

7.

Hotch felt badly about leaving Emily while she was yet again being stuck with needles, but his concerns about the doctor treating her overrode any other events occurring at the moment.

After being directed to Dr. Lisa Cuddy's office, he had headed down there immediately. Cuddy's office was beautifully decorated, like the rest of the hospital. She wasn't in there at the moment, but he was told that he would be allowed to wait for her in there.

The office was incredibly organized and professional-looking, yet he noticed the absence of much personalization. There were a few pictures on shelves, and on her desk was a picture of a child, but other than that, there was nothing. He heard footsteps, and immediately stood up and turned around to face a slightly confused-looking woman, and he assumed she was wondering why an unfamiliar man had been sitting in her office.

"Dr. Cuddy?" He stuck out his hand, and she nodded slowly, accepting the handshake, still looking a bit suspicious. "SSA Aaron Hotchner. My colleague, Emily Prentiss, is a patient here."

"Oh! Yes, yes." She smiled, taking a seat behind her desk, and gesturing for Hotch to reclaim the seat across from her. "Dr. House is treating her."

"That's actually who I was here to speak to you about." Cuddy frowned.

"Is there a problem?" She sighed inwardly. House had problems with many of his patients, but to make enemies with an FBI agent would do him no good.

"He hasn't been in to see Agent Prentiss since he admitted her, and even then, he did not speak to us directly." He paused, unsure whether to tell the woman the things Garcia had found out for him about the diagnostician. He decided on yes. "I did some research on Dr. House." Cuddy's eyes widened. "I know that he was, quite recently, admitted to a mental institution."

"Willingly," she said. "Agent Hotchner, Dr. House is the best doctor in this hospital. He was reviewed the board, and was granted back his medical license. Agent Prentiss is in the best hands possible."

"I don't understand how he could diagnose her without seeing her," he said.

"Dr. House interacts with his patients a bit, uh, differently than other doctors, but-"

"-Hey, Cuddy, I win; she doesn't have pneum- Oh." House entered the room, but had been distracted by something behind him, and hadn't noticed that Hotch was in the room as well until it was too late.

"You _win_?" Hotch was flabbergasted. "What, you had a bet going on about my colleague's condition?" He stood. "You haven't once been in to visit, to tell us what's going on."

"Agent Hotchner, please-" began Cuddy, but House cut her off.

"Is that what you'd like me to do? Sit by her bedside and hold her hand and tell her it's all going to be alright as we try to find a diagnosis?" Hotch stepped up so he was directly facing House. The two men were about the same height; eye-to-eye.

"Agent Prentiss doesn't need someone to hold her hand," he shot back. "How can you possibly find out what's wrong if you haven't even seen her?"

"I have four doctors to do that for me." He smirked. "Why do you care so much?"

"I've worked with Agent Prentiss for years; how could I not?" Cuddy was watching them converse as if it were a tennis match; her eyes darting to and from each man as they spoke.

"You've known her for years, but do you know everything about her?"

"What are you getting at?" Hotch narrowed his eyes.

"We know now that she does _not _have pneumonia." He shot a smug glance at Cuddy before continuing, "But we also don't know what's causing her symptoms." Hotch said nothing, still unsure at what House was trying to say. "There is the possibility that drug abuse is the problem."

"My colleague is being treated like a lab rat," he exclaimed, his voice raising a few decibels, "and you think that the cause of all of this is drugs? If she were on any kind of drug, she would've told you, which she _is not_." He ran a hand over his head, exasperated. He never let his emotions get out of control like they were on the verge of now. "We're in the FBI; agents are drug tested regularly. There's no way."

"Everybody lies," House commented. Cuddy said warningly,

"House." She pushed herself out of her seat. "Agent Hotchner, I'm incredibly sorry about everything that has happened. You're right; Dr. House should've been more involved."

"I was involved-"

"House, be quiet." She pointed a finger at him, waiting to make sure he wouldn't interrupt her again before turning back to Hotch. "Dr. House and team are doing everything they can to make sure we find out what's wrong with Agent Prentiss; I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you." He was just noticing now that his hands had balled up into fists, his nails cutting into the flesh of his palm, leaving indents. It was better than punching House, though, which he had a strong inclination to do at the moment. House's pager began to beep, and under Cuddy's watchful eye, he held it up to eye level.

"Wilson is done with Agent's Prentiss's lymph node biopsy." Hotch sped out of the room as if he were on fire.

Cuddy plopped down in her seat, her head in her hands.

"What a handful, huh?" said House, raising his eyebrows. Cuddy glared at him.

"House," she said. "You can't just have no contact with your patients."

"You've never had a problem with it before."

"They're in the FBI. A malpractice suit from them would be.." She shook her head slowly. "Just don't mess with them." She crossed her legs, leaning back into her chair in a more comfortable position. "How do you know it's not pneumonia?"

"The antibiotics the ER put her on aren't doing anything to help her. Her fever is getting worse."

"So, what do you think it is?"

"Wilson just did a biopsy to check for lymphoma, but it could be lung cancer as well. The results of the thoracentesis could possibly confirm or negate that diagnosis. If not, we could do a bronchoscopy, although there is the issue of that collapsed lung.."

"Collapsed lung?"

"Chase's fault. He nicked it during the thoracentesis. They placed a chest tube that'll stay in until we figure out what's causing her pleural effusion."

"And what about that headache?" He shrugged.

"She hasn't complained about it since."

"But it could still be pneumonia, just a bad case. Put her on stronger antibiotics and see if she gets better."

"No."

"No? House, you can't keep poking needles into this woman hoping that you'll get a positive on a different diagnosis just so you can prove it's _not _pneumonia."

"I put her on Rifampicin. If she gets better on it, then she either has TB or Legionnaire's.

"And if she doesn't have either of those, the medicine can cause possible liver failure, along with a whole list of not-so-great side effects."

"Yes, those are the the possibilities." He stood up. "I'll let you know how it goes." Cuddy rolled her eyes, but allowed him to leave.

* * *

Every agent had been pouring over each bit of information on the case, trying to find something they could've missed. It was late now, almost nine o'clock at night, and still they had gotten no farther on the case.

"The UNSUB shows no sign of devolution," began Rossi, disturbing the silence that had stretched on for almost a half an hour now. He kicked aside a discarded box of take-out food. "We find a body every four days. That means, if he sticks with the pattern, it'll be another two days until he kills another."

"What if we've got the profile wrong?" Reid's head shot up as he had this epiphany.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what if he's not just using the lake as a dump site?"

"You think it has some other meaning to our UNSUB?" asked Morgan, flipping closed the case file he had just reread for the thousandth time, it seemed.

"Well, if he's seen the news, he knows the FBI is after him," he answered, "so wouldn't you think he might change his dump site to throw us off his trail?"

"But he hasn't," Rossi agreed. "He hasn't even made an attempt to hide the bodies, just tosses them into the lake."

"What if the dump site has some other meaning to him?"

"Like what?" said JJ.

"Our UNSUB is all about control," Reid explained, "but dumping the bodies in the lake contradicts with our profile, because he's not in control of where the bodies of his victims end up. But, what if he's symbolizing something by dumping the bodies into the lake? What if the lake has some kind of meaning to him?"

"Perhaps he lived near it or visited it as a kid," added Rossi. "Something happened there to give meaning to that particular area for him."

"I'll call Garcia; maybe she can find something," said Morgan, slipping his phone out of his pocket and flipping it open. It rang only once before the tech analyst picked up.

"Tech Whiz Garcia here."

"Hey, baby girl, it's Morgan. Rossi, JJ, and Reid are here on speakerphone. I need you to get me anything you can find on events that have happened at or around the lake where our victims have been found."

"_Mi amor_, I will have it to you lickety-split." They heard the clicking of the keyboard as her fingers flitted furiously across it. Her tone grew somber, though, as she asked, "Any news on Emily?" The team glanced at each other. Reid was the one who answered.

"Her fever is up, and her lung collapsed so they had to place a chest tube. Her doctors are doing more tests on her to determine what's wrong. We really don't know what's causing anything yet."

"Oh gosh." They heard sniffling. "But she'll be alright. She'll pull through; I know it. I just wish I were there."

"She wants us to focus on the case, not her."

"Garcia, we're all worried about Prentiss," interrupted Rossi, "but we really do need to hurry up if we want to catch this guy before we find another body."

"Sorry, sorry; you're right." A few final clicks on the keyboard, and then she said, "I can't find anything significant that happened. I've searched all throughout newspapers, magazines, everything, for the last thirty years."

"Well, we've heard of killers dumping bodies in an area significant to them, and not in a bad way either," noted Morgan. "Are there any residences around the lake?"

"Quite a few. Here's something interesting.."

"What?"

"I brought up all the paperwork on the houses and the first name I bring up is Jake Patterson. Mr. Patterson was just fired from his job at, get this, Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital, where he worked as a pretty successful doctor of cardiology."

"That's the hospital Emily's at!" exclaimed Reid.

"With his loss of that job, it seems likely that this is the stressor, although it may just be a contributing factor to everything else going on in his life," said Rossi. "Why was he fired?"

"He came to work drunk one day."

"Many organized offenders commit their crimes under the influence of alcohol."

"I'm going back, and it seems that this house has been owned by this guy's family for years; it was built a while ago."

"Well, that's why the lake is significant. Is he married?"

"Yes, with two kids. But our bar theory is wrong as well; he's unemployed at the moment."

"Garcia, send his home address to my phone," said Morgan. "We've got to head over there."

"It's getting dark; shouldn't we wait 'til morning?" JJ inquired.

"He could already be out looking for his next victim," answered Reid, "we can't take the chance."

* * *

House _did _care about his patients, specifically Emily at the moment; Hotch could tell that much. But, it seemed that the doctor's enthrallment with the FBI and their job almost overshadowed that fact. The way his pupils dilated when he caught sight of Hotch's gun, the interest he had shown in the two during their initial meeting in the ER; it all worried him. Would House's deep curiosity for their job affect Emily's treatment?

These were the thoughts that raced through the unit chief's head as he practically sprinted down the hall, eager to get back to his colleague. He didn't even want to think about the results of the test that had just taken place. Cancer, really? His life now seemed like just a long string of unfortunate events. It seemed that his team was always getting sucked into bad situations.

He slid open the door to her room. Emily was alone, her eyes closed, but they flickered open as he stepped inside.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Wasn't sleeping." A bit tentatively, she pushed herself into a sitting position, wary of the chest tube that sent sharp pains through her torso if she moved a certain way. Now her underarm was sore as well, after the biopsy.

"How did the biopsy go?" He reclaimed his seat next to her bed. An amused grin tugged at one corner of her lips.

"How do you think it went?"

"Dumb question; I know." His phone began vibrating; presumably it was one of the team. He was right: Morgan's name popped up on the caller ID. Hotch went to stand, to exit the room to take the call, but Emily held out her arm.

"Stay, please." A bit reluctantly, he did as she wished, putting it on speakerphone. He knew that Emily really should be resting, but he also knew that to focus on the case would take her mind off of the pain, and the predicament, she was in.

"Hotchner. You've got Prentiss and I on speaker."

"We've got a name: Jake Patterson. He lives right near the lake, lost his job recently as a cardiologist at the same hospital you're at right now-"

"-Wow, really?"

"-I know, weird coincidence. He's married, with two kids. We thought he may have worked at a bar now, but we were wrong. He's unemployed. We're going to check out his house right now; maybe we'll be able to catch him before he heads out to get another victim."

"Good luck." It pained Hotch to know that he could not be along there with them, but he knew Emily was feeling exactly the same way. He ended the call. Emily looked as if she were deep in thought.

"What are you thinking?"

"Morgan said that you thought he worked at a bar."

"That's right. We thought maybe that's how he was luring away his victims, or a job similar to that." He tapped his fingers on the armrest anxiously. "Prentiss, you really should be resting." She shook her head.

"Give me your phone." He cocked an eyebrow. "Please." He placed it into her outstretched hand. She scrolled through his contact list, looking for Garcia's name.

"Greetings!" came the analyst's cheerful voice.

"Garcia, it's Prentiss."

"Emily?" She sounded pleasantly surprised, although also saddened at the hoarseness of her friend's voice, and how tired she sounded. "What's up? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she lied, "But I need you to look something up for me."

"Anything!"

"Where did each of the victim's work?" There was silence on the other end of the line as Garcia quickly pulled up the information.

"The first at a deli, the second at a bank, and the third at a bar."

"And what area were their jobs located in?" Garcia didn't answer right away, because Emily had begun coughing again, the chest tube pulling painfully with each heave.

"You alright?" Hotch and Garcia asked almost simultaneously, reaching out to her. She nodded, shooing away his hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Garcia?"

"Oh yes, sorry- Actually, all of their places of employment are located no farther than five miles from the hospital."

"Thanks, Garcia."

"No problem. Feel better, hun."

"I'll try," she chuckled, and ended the call before turning to Hotch, whose face was still masked with worry. "He's abducting the women from the area he used to work; this is his comfort zone. He rapes and strangles them in his van, and then he brings them back to the lake and dumps the bodies." Emily had switched to professional mode; almost all traces of any drowsiness in her voice had gone, and she was totally focused on trying to help the team solve the case.

"Which means if he _is _already out looking for another victim, he'll be in this general area," said Hotch, nodding his head slowly. "I'll call the detective and get him to send out any officers he can spare." He smiled slightly. "Good thinking, Prentiss."

* * *

Author's Note: I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I know I said it would be sooner, but I've been so swamped with work. Next week I have a break, so I should be able to get out at least another chapter or two during that time. Thank you so much to all of you that are reading, and especially to those of you reviewing. I love reading your feedback. Please don't forget to tell me what you thought of this chapter; it'll only take a second!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Mind or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

8.

"What are you doing in the dark?" Wilson had walked into the apartment he shared with House, and discovered his friend reclining on the couch, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. The only source of illumination was an eerie glow from the screen of the laptop on his lap. "And, what are you doing with my laptop?"

"Forgot mine at the hospital," he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen, seemingly too interested in what he was reading to tear himself away from it. Wilson switched on the lights. "Why'd you get back so late? You're usually here before me."

"Why are you home now?" he rebutted, answering House's question with a second one. "Don't you have a patient?"

"We put her on Rifampicin; now all we can do is wait until we see how she reacts to it." He shrugged. "I'm sure someone is staying there to see what happens. Taub is really the only one with a life at home."

"Nice thing to say." Wilson settled near House's feet, pushing away a half-empty box of pizza. "You ate dinner? You didn't wait for me?"

".. I was hungry." A half-smile rapidly appeared on his face, and he slid the laptop around to face Wilson. "Look at this."

"What is it?" He squinted against the sudden bright light, and read aloud, "_'FBI agent revealed to be undercover at compound'_ ...So?"

"Read more."

"_'New information has been found out about the hostages at the standoff that started yesterday at the Separatarian Ranch located in La Plata County, Colorado. Anonymous sources from the State Attorney General's office have revealed that an undercover FBI agent is one of the hostages at the compound…_I remember watching something about this on the news. This is from a while ago; a year at least, right?" He trailed off, looking perplexed. "What has this got to do anything?"

"Well," replied House, in a slightly annoyed tone of voice, "if you had read further into the article, you would've found out that the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was helping with the hostage negotiation."

"And..?"

"Did you look at the patient's medical history?"

"I skimmed over it. It wasn't important; you only needed me to do a biopsy."

"Well, if you had actually taken the time to look through it-"

"-Because you always do, right?-"

"-Shut up. If you had taken the time to look through it, you would've seen that she was admitted to an ER in Colorado a day after this newspaper article was published."

"Why was she admitted?"

"Lacerations, bruising, and a couple of bruised ribs. Seems like she got knocked up pretty badly, huh?" Wilson shook his head.

"House, why does this matter? Does it have anything to do with the case?"

"Probably not." He shut the lid of the laptop and moved it to the coffee table. "But it is interesting. How'd the biopsy go?"

"Fine." Wilson had grabbed a piece of pizza from the box, and was now speaking through a mouthful of cheese and tomato sauce. "I talked to her; she's a very impressive woman." He stopped chewing for a moment and frowned. "Why do you find the fact that your patient was held hostage and beaten by a probably-insane cult leader interesting?"

"Come on, Jimmy, you know I'm not sadistic!"

"Don't call me Jimmy."

"I'm not fascinated with the fact that she was beaten. I'm fascinated with her job; what she and the rest of the 'BAU' does."

"God, House," sighed Wilson. "If you're so interested in all of this, just go talk to her. Stop sending everyone else to get you information."

"Funny; Cuddy just yelled at me about that earlier, which also reminds me of my little 'confrontation' with that guy that's been hanging around her."

"Confrontation? And, 'that guy's' name is Agent Hotchner. He's Agent Prentiss's boss, I think."

"Boss? He acts more like an over-protective boyfriend or husband." Wilson laughed.

"I thought so as well. What was the 'confrontation' about?" Wilson had put the plate back on the table, now covered with a thin layer of scattered crumbs, him already having gobbled down the slice of pizza. He hadn't eaten since lunch, and House had stolen half of his sandwich anyway.

"Agent G-man was talking to Cuddy about me not visiting his 'colleague'. I may or may not have mentioned my 24-hour bet with Cuddy about the pneumonia. I also might've accused Agent Prentiss of using cocaine as an explanation for the pleural effusion."

"Oh ho!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening. "You're just full of good moves today, huh? House, what were you thinking?" House waved his hand, dismissing the question.

"Maybe I was a _tiny _bit out of line."

"Well, at least you're willing to admit it."

* * *

Finally, Emily had fallen asleep. The woman was stubborn, more so than Hotch had realized. She had refused any more pain medication, even when she was no longer able to hide the pain from him, visibly. Eventually, she had agreed to let a nurse give her some medication to help her sleep, and had soon drifted off into a fitful slumber. But, at least she was getting some type of rest.

Hotch now sat in a silent vigil at her bedside. The sheets were plastered to Emily's frail body, revealing that she looked even skinnier than usual. She had always been a slim woman, but now she just looked like skin-and-bones. He made a mental note to mention the weight loss to her doctors the next time one of them stopped in, and the night sweats that he presumed were the cause of the overload of body fluids secreting out of every pore.

How late was it now? He glanced at the clock on the bedside table; 8 o'clock. The team had called him about an hour ago, but he knew that the lake where the bodies had been dumped, and where the UNSUB's house was located, was almost an hour away. He hoped that they made it there in time, before the UNSUB was able to get another victim. But, even if he had managed to drag away another poor victim, there were police combing the whole town. He wouldn't be able to go far; descriptions of the van the team thought he had had been relayed back to each officer.

Hotch was reluctant to leave Emily's side, but he wanted to grab his go-bag from his SUV that he had forgot to bring with him when he had first arrived back at the hospital. But, a change of clothes would be nice. The case files were also stored away in his bag as well, and it wouldn't do any harm to go over them once more while he had some down time.

Taking one last look at Emily to make sure she was still alright, he made his way out to the hallway, taking care to shut the door as quietly as he could so as not to wake her. As he stepped outside, into the parking lot, he was overcome with a feeling that something was..off. He didn't know what; call it a sixth-sense, if you will, but he had a strange feeling in his gut. And, his instincts, after years of experience, were usually right. But, what was it?

* * *

It was already almost pitch black outside, save for the sliver of moonlight that escaped through the clouds. Even if they were able to arrive at the UNSUB's house, Morgan realized, it would be easy for him to escape without the team even noticing. But, he had to be optimistic about the situation.

Reid sat next to him, and was slipping his phone back into his pocket. JJ and Rossi had taken a second SUV, and were following close behind them. "Hotch called to say he had the station send out officers to patrol the areas where the victims had been taken from. He thinks that if our UNSUB isn't at his house, then he'll be out looking for another victim."

"Good thinking."

"Actually it was Emily's idea." Morgan cocked an eyebrow, and said in amusement,

"Really?" He chuckled. "She would."

"She would what?"

"Still be working from a hospital bed."

"She should be resting; she knows that."

"Yeah, right, kid," Morgan shot back. "Try telling Emily that. After the car crash, she wanted to get right up and back to work, when she had a damn concussion." The road had switched from smooth to bumpy, alerting Reid to the fact that now Morgan had turned onto an unpaved road. "We're here."

The headlights of the SUV illuminated a small wooden house. It looked like nothing out of the ordinary; painted white, with black shingles on the roof, and some bushes out in the front. The lights in the house were on, and there was a green four-door sedan in the driveway, but no van. They could see the moonlight glinting off the lake about twenty yards away from the backside of the house. The house was surrounded by trees; it was very well hidden.

JJ and Rossi caught up with the two, and all four agents headed up to the front door.

"Jake Patterson?" called Rossi, knocking loudly on the door. They heard nothing, and Rossi was about to knock again when the door finally opened. To their dismay, it was a woman, not their UNSUB, who greeted them. Perhaps greeted was the wrong word, for the frown on her face was rather unwelcoming. "Mrs. Patterson."

"That's me," she answered, sounding tired. "Why are you all here? Who are you?" She looked at each of them suspiciously. Each of them held up their badges.

"We're from the FBI," said JJ. "Is your husband here?"

"No, not right now." She sighed. "I barely ever see him anymore. Ever since he lost his job, he's either holed up in his office here or driving around in that stupid van." She narrowed her eyes. "Why, did he do something wrong?" The BAU team glanced at each other, before Morgan finally spoke up,

"Ma'am, that's what we're trying to find out. May we come in?" Mrs. Patterson looked hesitant, but stepped aside, allowing the four agents to file inside. She led them into a small, plainly-furnished living room. Two children that looked to be no older than ten sat on the couch, watching a cartoon on the television. She switched off the TV, and the kids let out annoyed groans.

"Kids, go to your rooms and play up there." When they pouted, she pointed towards the agents. "I need to speak to these nice people. Go. Now." They dragged their feet, but obeyed, and Mrs. Patterson gestured towards the couch as she took a seat herself. "What is it that you need to know?"

"You don't seem surprised that we're here," said Rossi, settling onto the sofa next to JJ. Reid and Morgan continued to stand. "Why is that?" She shrugged dejectedly.

"Jake has been acting..strangely lately. I saw the news about the murders on TV. I put two-and-two together." JJ leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. If Mrs. Patterson had been closer, she would have perhaps put a hand on the woman's arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Why wouldn't you call the police if you suspected your husband to have committed murder?"

"I was..scared of what he would've done to me." She nervously ran her hands through her hair. "I wasn't even positive he really was the one anyway."

"Mrs. Patterson, you said that your husband is always 'holed up in his office'." Now Rossi was speaking once again. "Do you think we could take a look at that room?"

"I don't think he would like it very much. He doesn't let anyone down there.."

"Please." He saw the trepidation in her eyes. He thought her fear to be irrational. The FBI was here with her; how could she be hurt any further by her husband? Rossi was sure none of them had missed the fading bruises scattered on her arms. It wouldn't be a surprise to any of them if their UNSUB was abusing his wife as well, to keep her feeling insubordinate to him. She finally nodded, and pointed to a door further down the hallway. Rossi nodded to Reid and Morgan, and they headed towards the door.

"Do you have any idea where your husband might be right now?" the two heard JJ ask as Morgan slowly turned the door handle.

They were greeted by a tiny room, and the newspaper clippings that partially covered one wall made it seem even more cramped. Reid trailed his slender fingers along the paper. "He's been following the investigation."

"I'm not surprised," commented Morgan, slipping past Reid to reach the desk on the other side of the room. He snorted angrily as he rummaged through the drawers. "There's nothing in here that's going to help us find this guy."

* * *

Chase tapped his fingers impatiently on the glass table. "We've gone through everything the patient could have. The only thing to do now is wait to see how the Rifampicin affects her, or do more tests."

"I don't think she'd appreciate us possibly waking her up to do another painful procedure," said Taub, closing the heavy textbook whose pages he had been skimming, looking for something they might have missed. "I'm going home; we can see what House wants in the morning."

"I'm leaving too." Thirteen stood up, grabbing her coat. "I agree with Taub; there's nothing more we can do, at least not right now."

"Fine. I'll go grab something to eat," said Foreman. He directed his gaze towards Chase. "Want to come?"

"Nah." The Australian shook his head. "I'll go check on our patient, make sure the Rifampicin isn't doing anything harmful to her body."

* * *

Author's Note: I know, not much happened in this chapter, and it's quite a bit shorter than the last one. It's more of an in-between, and I don't like writing those kind of chapters. But they are sometimes needed, sadly. I think I gained a lot of readers after I posted that last chapter (at least, I got a lot of alerts). Thank you to all of you reading and reviewing. Don't forget to drop me a review for this chapter as well, and tell me what you thought. The next chapter should be up, hopefully, by this weekend.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Mind or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

9.

The only source of illumination came from tall spotlights place sporadically around the perimeter of the parking lot. Hotch wondered if there was surveillance cameras set up around, though they wouldn't be too helpful if there wasn't a sufficient amount of light. This was a real reason for apprehension; it would be so easy for someone to be snatched up in the darkness, and carted away. His trepidation was only intensified, as he knew that the UNSUB was out there tonight, hunting for a new victim.

He knew that he wasn't a target, but almost every woman that lived in the area was. Hell, the UNSUB could be prowling around this very parking lot. He raked his hands through his hair, taking in a deep breath, in a rare moment of anxiety as the emotion actually showed on his normally-stoic features. There were police officers combing the area, and his agents were out there as well. If there was any chance of catching this guy before he killed again, it would be tonight. It was no use worrying when he should be with Emily, taking care to make she was alright.

Hotch had reached his SUV and retrieved his go-bag when he heard a muffled shriek that came from somewhere to the east of his location. His hand reflexively went to the gun holstered on his hip, and his bag dropped to the ground with a quiet _thunk_. Hotch removed his gun from his holster and held it pointed towards the ground as he crept in between his SUV and a small four-door parked in front of him, searching for the source of the noise. It seemed that he had spoken too soon about his safety; there were no officers around here as far as he could tell. He was alone, without any backup in case the scream led him to a not-so-good situation.

There, near the edge of the lot was a large, dark-colored van. A man stood in front of the opened door, blocking the inside of the truck from Hotch's view. The man looked as if he were trying to force something, or someone, into the van rather forcefully. Hotch brought his gun up, and shouted,

"FBI! Sir, please turn around!" The guy's shoulders jerked, as if in fear. He grabbed from something in the van, and whirled around to face Hotch. To his great dismay, in the man's grasp was Dr. Hadley. He had his arm braced against the young doctor's shoulders, and a blade was held up to her neck. It would be just his luck that their UNSUB would turn up at the very hospital one of his colleague's was at. "Jake Patterson?" Patterson's face twisted into a nasty grimace.

"Don't come one step closer!" he yelled, pressing the blade menacingly against Thirteen's throat. Hotch saw the naked fear in her eyes. "Or I'll kill her! I swear, I'll kill her!"

"Mr. Patterson, my name is Aaron Hotchner. I work for the FBI-"

"-I know that!" he snapped.

"Please, Mr. Patterson, step away from Dr. Hadley. I don't want anyone to get hurt; all I want to do is talk to you."

"Huh!" the UNSUB scoffed, "Sure!" The blade was pressed deeper into Thirteen's neck, biting into her flesh hard enough to draw blood. Hotch tightened his hands around the gun. This guy loved control; he wasn't going to surrender it to any authority.

Patterson released Thirteen, and she fell sprawling to the ground. He took the knife, and in one quick movement had sliced open his neck, and he collapsed next to her, and bled out. Hotch stepped forward, kicking the blade out of the guy's hand. He was just making sure he was actually dead, when he heard footsteps coming up behind them. He spun around, the gun once again at the ready.

There stood Taub, his hands up above his head in a gesture of surrender.

"It's just me!" Hotch holstered his gun. "I heard yelling..What's going on?"

"Sorry." He didn't answer Taub's question, and instead knelt next to Thirteen. "Dr. Hadley, are you alright?" She sat up, her lips tightening into a grimace.

"Yeah..Only a cut." She pressed a hand to the wound. "I'll be fine."

"What the hell happened here?" exclaimed Taub, helping Thirteen to her feet. Hotch placed his phone to his ear as he answered,

"This is the guy my team has been looking for. His next target was Dr. Hadley." There was a look of shock on the older doctor's face. Thirteen simply looked stunned. "I'm very sorry about what happened, but I really need to get this all dealt with. Why don't you two head back to the hospital? This should all be cleaned up by morning." He grimaced sympathetically, gesturing to the dead body. Taub nodded in agreement, and both he and Thirteen turned their backs as they slowly made their way back to the hospital.

"Hotch. What's going on?" Rossi's worried voice drifted out of the phone. "Something wrong with Emily?"

"No. Prentiss is fine." He ran his free hand through his hair, absentmindedly wondering if she had awoken. "Actually, our UNSUB is dead."

"What?" Rossi's surprise sounded almost comical.

"Yeah. And his last victim was almost one of Prentiss's doctors."

"Damn. Is the doctor alright?"

"Yeah, just a cut. She'll be fine. It was in the parking lot of the hospital; could you get authorities here?" He looked at the hospital impatiently. "I'd really like to get back to Prentiss."

"Yeah, sure. I'll get right on it."

"Thank you."

* * *

After what seemed like an excruciatingly long wait for the authorities to arrive at the crime scene, Hotch had finally been able to rejoin Emily inside her hospital room. He had shucked off his jacket and then fallen asleep in his seat next to her bed, leaning forward, his head resting on the bed next to her legs.

It wasn't a bad sight to wake up to, Emily decided as she awoke. In fact, waking up with Hotch's hand laying on her leg was actually rather nice. But, the agonizing headache didn't do much to complement the scene. He woke up now as well, stirring as she brought a hand to her forehead.

"Something wrong?" he asked, still half-asleep, slurring his words slightly as he straightened up in the chair.

"Just a headache," murmured Emily in reply, frowning.

"Should I get someone?" His brows furrowed in worry, moving his hand from her thigh to her shoulder.

"No." But her actions betrayed her words, and now she had both hands pressed to her head. And then, it looked as if she had fainted, for she relaxed, her head lolling back onto the pillow, when before she had propped herself up.

"Prentiss?" He shook her shoulder gently. "Emily?" Suddenly, her body went rigid, and she began to shudder violently. "Emily!" She was having a seizure. He raced outside, frantic. What was going on?

"Help, please! I need a doctor!"

* * *

Author's Note: I'm very sorry it took me so long to update! I'm been absolutely buried in work, and my life has been very hectic lately. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. Don't forget to review this chapter as well!

Oh, and if you'd like to check it out, I have a new story up entitled Overcoming It. If you like this story, you might like that one as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Mind or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

10.

The BAU team had found a small corner café a few blocks from Princeton-Plainsborough to grab a bit to eat before heading off to finally see Emily. Sans Reid, none of them had seen her since her admittance to the hospital. They were all feeling uneasy; the last time Hotch had spoken to them he hadn't sounded too optimistic.

JJ broke the silence after a long while of not talking, which was unusual for them. "Garcia is going to catch the next commercial flight here that she can get on."

Reid took a sip of his sugary coffee commenting, "I hope she's able to get a ticket quickly."

Morgan snickered in amusement. "Knowing Garcia, she'll probably hack her way onto the next flight."

"I hope the doctor is alright," said Rossi, ignoring the ongoing conversation.

"Did Hotch tell you what happened to her?" asked Reid, raising his voice to speak over the jingling bells as the door to the café swung open.

He nodded. "Just a cut; she'll be fine. But I haven't heard from him since."

"I hope nothing's happened to Emily since then," JJ worried.

"It's only been a couple of hours," soothed Morgan. "I'm sure everything is fine."

* * *

Nine o'clock. House should've been at work, but when ever had he been on time? Not for years. He had instead stopped at the café near the hospital to get a coffee to pass the time until he decided it was a good time to go to work.

"House!" Wilson stood next to him in line, tapping his foot anxiously. "You said we were going straight to the hospital. "You lied. We're late!"

"Keep your pants on," said House boredly.

"I have a meeting," he whined, glancing impatiently at his watch.

House thanked the cashier as she handed him his coffee before replying sarcastically, "What's Cuddy going to do, fire us?" He glared pointedly at his friend, whose mouth stayed clamped shut. "I didn't think so." He took a sip of the hot liquid, his eyes scanning the room as he looked for a seat when he spotted a group of quite professional-looking adults. It didn't seem as if they were from around here, but House could tell from how close they were sitting that these people weren't just colleagues. No, they were closer than that.

Then he heard the name 'Emily' drift over the chatter of the coffee shop, and it registered faintly in the back of his mind that 'Emily' was the name of his patient.

House elbowed Wilson in the ribs, and he let out a high-pitched yelp. "Hey! What was that for?"

"I think that those people over there," he said, pointing to the team as he grinned slyly, "Know my patient. I think they're with the FBI too."

Wilson frowned as he rubbed his sore side. "You're not going to talk to them, are you?" House ignored what he considered to be a rhetorical question, and instead began to make his way towards their round table tucked into the corner. He heard Wilson sigh in annoyance, but he also heard his footsteps as he followed him.

The pretty blonde stopped talking and looked up as House halted at her shoulder. "Can I help you?" she asked tiredly.

"Yes, actually," he answered with a mock tone of sincerity coloring his voice. "You can." He scrutinized the others. There was an awkward-looking kid, who couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Sitting on the blonde's left was a stocky, dark-skinned guy with a look of suspicion on his face. On the woman's other side was a man who looked to be the oldest. He didn't look distrustful, only curious, and perhaps slightly apprehensive. "Do you guys work for the FBI?"

The dark-skinned guy's eyes narrowed. "Yes, why?" House saw his hand waved over the gun holstered on his hip.

House didn't answer the question. "And you have a colleague named Emily?"

The older man rose protectively. "What is this all about?"

"Your colleague, Emily, is my patient."

The youngest perked up. "You're Dr. House!"

"Good deduction, kid," snorted House.

"Why are you here?" the blonde repeated. "Has something happened to Emily?"

He shook his head. "No. I just heard her name and thought I'd ask." His lips quirked upwards. "So, you guys work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit too?"

"House," whispered Wilson sternly, "Stop prodding!"

He didn't even acknowledge Wilson, and was about to reiterate his question when his phone began to ring.

"Damn," he muttered. "The team's been calling all morning."

"Don't you think that it must be important, then?"

House rolled his eyes and placed the phone to his ear. "What is so important that it couldn't wait until-"

"House!" Foreman's angry voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Shut up. We have two problems. One: Thirteen almost got killed by that serial killer that's been running around Princeton-"

"What?"

"-and two: we have a new symptom. Our patient had a seizure."

"Is Thirteen alright?"

"What's wrong? What happened?" prompted Wilson when he heard House's inquiry. House shushed his with a wave of his hand.

"Thirteen is fine; just a cut. The guy is dead. You know our patient's colleague, Agent Hotchner?" He didn't wait for an answer. "He killed him."

"Good." He paused. "Schedule an MRI. I'll be there in five minutes." He flipped shut the phone. Wilson and he dark-skinned man simultaneously asked , "What's wrong?"

House frowned. "Your friend just had a seizure."

* * *

The two doctors and four agents hurried to the hospital, and after officially introducing themselves quickly, they parted to go their separate ways.

Chase, Taub, Foreman, and Thirteen were waiting around the conference table when House arrived. A strip of gauze was taped over the lower section of Thirteen's neck.

"Are you alright?" House asked as he took his seat at the head of the table. He was truly sincere; a trait he did not often portray.

Thirteen nodded tersely. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"We don't really have time to talk about it now-"

"Tell me. I want to know."

She sighed. "I was about to get into my car when some guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to help him do something- I can't remember what. He led me to his car, and suddenly tried to shove me inside, so I screamed. He pulled out a knife-" She paused, and took a deep breath before continuing, "-and that was when Agent Hotchner came running out of nowhere."

"How'd the guy die?" questioned Chase. She hadn't told them earlier; said she wanted to wait for House so she wouldn't have to repeat the story.

"He killed himself with the knife." She looked oddly irritated.

"Thirteen, if you want to head home-" began House, but she shook her head ardently.

"No. I'm fine"

He shrugged. "Alright."

Foreman glanced at his watch and stood up hastily, interrupting House's curious scrutiny of the female doctor. "We'd better head out for the MRI."

* * *

The team had taken up residence in the hospital waiting room. Although the all would've liked to stay with Emily, her room was much too small for the large group. So, it was there they sat, worrying, as the doctors came and took Emily for the MRI, Hotch trailing along behind.

Now, Hotch stood behind the four doctors, and, surprisingly, Dr. House was with them as well. He hadn't seen him since the ER. He was still quite frazzled; the seizure, he knew, was not a welcome addition to Emily's list of symptoms.

"So, you caught the bad guy, huh?" said House, disturbing the awkward silence that had settled over the six of them.

Hotch glared at the back of House's head. "I'd rather you focus on diagnosing my colleague, thanks."

"Sorry, he murmured. Hotch pretending not to notice the sarcasm coating his apology."

"Look," Foreman said suddenly, pointing to a white spot on the computer screen.

"A tumor?" suggested Taub, squinting and leaning in to get a better view.

"Or an abscess," Chase interjected.

"An abscess could have been caused by the infection," concluded Thirteen softly.

"An abscess in her brain?" said Hotch worriedly. "What does that mean?"

"Certainly nothing good," stated House grimly. "Take her off the Rifampicin, and do an LP. We have to find out what' s causing the abscess before more pop up."

"And what happens if she does develop more?"

Hotch didn't receive an answer as the doctors rushed out of the room.

* * *

Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of Emily in the last two chapters. I will make up for it in the next one. Thank you to all of those who are reading and reviewing. Please don't forget to tell me what you thought of this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Emily had been taken back to her room, where Chase had hurriedly set to removing the Rifampicin from the IV stand, while Taub began to ready the LP. Foreman and Thirteen had gone back to the lab to run a few more tests on her blood, and House had disappeared.

Emily looked exhausted; the dark circles under her eyes stood out against her almost-white skin, although her cheeks were flushed to a rosy pink from the fever. Hotch had again taken up residence at her side.

"We're going to have to do a lumbar puncture," explained Taub, his eyes focused on the kit that was spread out on a smaller table. "We'll take a sample of your spinal fluid to try and determine what kind of infection you have so we can treat it."

"What did you see on the MRI?" Emily narrowed her eyes. Although she was tired, her fatigue didn't override her profiling abilities. She knew they were attempting to delay telling her something. And whatever this something was, it was not good.

Chase and Taub glanced at each other warily, before the Australian doctor said finally, "You have an abscess in your brain, probably caused by the infection."

"Is that why I had a seizure?" Her hand felt around until she found Hotch's larger one. She needed the comfort.

"Yes. And you're going to have more neurological problems until we find out the cause of the abscess."

"Oh." She was, for the first time in a long while, speechless. "What happens if the abscess isn't treated quickly?"

"Well, as Dr. Chase said," Taub answered, picking up where Chase was not willing to, "your neurological problems could worsen. More abscesses are likely to grow if we don't get this treated. It depends on where they develop, but it could eventually lead to-" He swallowed nervously. "-death."

Emily hung her head back, leaning against the pillow. This was not anything she wanted to hear right now. "Great," she murmured sarcastically, that part of her not totally absent. She felt Hotch rub his thumb against her hand.

"It'll be alright, Emily."

Taub took a seat on the opposite side of the bed from him, the rolling table at his side.

"I'm going to need you to roll onto your side so your back is facing me."

Hotch made a movement to stand. "Should I leave?"

"If you'd like-"

"-No, Hotch. Please stay." She looked up at him with pleading eyes. This wasn't going to be something she particularly wanted him to see, but she needed his support. He settled back down in his seat with a nod. He understood.

Chase came to stand next to Hotch. "You're going to have to draw your knees up towards your chest." Emily did as she was told, feeling much too vulnerable for her liking.

"You're going to feel a slight prick as I inject the anesthetic." That pain wasn't bad; not any worse than anything she had already gone through during her stay here. But an anesthetic just meant worse pain was coming. Perhaps she should have let the nurses up her morphine, just so her senses would have been dulled a bit for this. "Now a slight pressure as I insert the needle-" Taub was cut off by the sound of the sliding door slamming shut, and then House was at his side.

"What are you trying to do, paralyze her?" The beeps from the monitor began to speed up as Emily grew anxious. She didn't know it was House behind her; she had only seen him that one time, and it had only been for a quick moment. "Gimme that." Taub moved out of the way, making room as House took his seat.

"House, what are you doing?" he asked indignantly, crossing her arms. Chase looked on with a faint expression of amusement. At least he was in the same room as the patient.

"What does it look like?" He positioned the needle, and slowly slid it through her flesh. Emily's hand grabbed for Hotch's forearm, her nails digging into his skin, as pain shot through her back. The anesthetic was barely helping. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she could feel Hotch's hand on her upper back, rubbing small circles in an attempt to calm her down. She grit her teeth, willing herself not to yell out. She wasn't about to show any more fragility than she already had.

"Almost finished," soothed Chase softly, trying to help comfort her as well. Hotch appreciated the effort, although he was not at all happy about the fact that House had barged his way in here, and in the process caused Emily anxiety.

And then the procedure was over at last, and a bandage was placed over the portion of her back where the needle had been inserted before Emily was positioned so she was on her back once again.

House laced his fingers together, peering at her with curiosity. Hotch didn't like how his eyes roamed hungrily over her body. Was that jealousy he was feeling?

* * *

"So, what's up with Hotch and Emily?" JJ was tired of the silence. The despondence that hung over the waiting room like a storm cloud was overwhelming, and she had to brighten it up somehow, even if it were just with a conversation.

"What do you mean?" asked Reid, who was now standing, leaned against the wall. It had become too uncomfortable for him to fold his lanky body into one of the plastic chairs. Morgan chuckled from his seat.

"Come on, kid, you had to have noticed something different between them."

"No, I haven't.." The genius looked lost.

"Look at them now!" exclaimed Garcia, the numerous bracelets she wore on her wrist rattling as she gestured towards the glass walls of the hospital room. The blinds had been drawn, but whoever had closed them hadn't done the best job. They could still see small sections of the room through them. Emily's back was turned to them, and they could see her hand on Hotch's forearm in a death grip, and Hotch's free hand on her upper back. "Look at where his hands are. That's not just a boss comforting a hurting colleague, my dear. That's not even friends. If you didn't know them, and you looked at them now, what would you think?"

"That they're together," he said determinedly.

"Exactly."

"Then why aren't they?"

"Now that's that good question, Reid," interjected Rossi from the corner of the room, where he had, up 'til now, been sitting, quietly sipping at his coffee. He was smirking. "I think everyone has realized that they have feelings for each other except the two that are the most important."

"I haven't," stated Reid sadly.

"You're out of the loop, kid," Morgan commented with a smug grin. "You know, after this is all over, we need to make sure they realize their feelings."

"Oh, I know that look," Garcia muttered, cocking a brow. "You're plotting something. I want in." They weren't able to finish their now-clandestine conversation to plan the joining of Hotch and Emily, because a woman in a white doctor's coat appeared, walking towards them, her curly brown hair bouncing atop her head.

"Hello," she greeted them, with a bright smile. "I'm Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine here at Princeton-Plainsborough. You all are here for Agent Prentiss, correct?"

"That's right," JJ replied, naturally taking the lead. She was always the one who dealt with each person involved with the team; this was no different. She quickly introduced the rest of the team that was present before Cuddy took a seat and continued,

"I'm here to speak to you about your colleague's condition."

"Finally," huffed Morgan, crossing his arms. "But I'm confused. Why isn't Dr. House telling us this? From what I've heard, he hasn't been in to see Emily since she's been here."

"Actually," Cuddy corrected, "he's in there right now. And, I know, I apologize for Dr. House's..rude behavior. But, I already spoke to Agent Hotchner about this. What I'm here to talk to you right now is what we're doing to help her." It wasn't normal for her to do this sort of thing; this was the patient's doctor's job. But, she wanted to make sure Princeton-Plainsborough made a good impression for the FBI, which right now it had apparently not. "The seizure your colleague had was caused by a brain abscess. We don't know if she will have anymore, but what we do know is that it was caused by an infection."

"So, this infection is causing all of these different symptoms?" questioned JJ, puzzled. "The lung issues, and the brain?"

"Yes. At first, Dr. House thought it was pneumonia, or Tuberculosis, but that was proved wrong. A biopsy was done to determine whether or not she had lymphoma-"

"-Cancer?" squeaked Reid, the color draining from his face.

Cuddy nodded. "We haven't got the results back from that, yet. But the lumbar puncture will help us diagnose whatever is wrong with her."

"So, basically, you have no idea what's wrong," Rossi said bluntly.

"Not exactly," stammered Cuddy, looking flustered. "We know she has an infection, and-"

"Statistically, there are thousands of infectious diseases," Reid interrupted.

"I know this doesn't sound too good," she said, her voice taking on a tone of compassion and understanding. "But Agent Prentiss's doctors are working very hard." Cuddy stood, brushing invisible specks of dust from the front of her clothing. "If you need anything, please ask anyone around. I'm in my office if you'd like to speak directly to me."

As she walked away, Rossi murmured, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Well, that was a big help."

* * *

Author's Note: So sorry for the long time it took to get this chapter out. I've been loaded with work. But, look forward to the next chapter. It will have a LOT of Emily. Thank you so much to all of you who are reading and reviewing. Please don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you thought of this chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Mind or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

12.

The doctors had left, and Emily had fallen asleep soon after. It seemed that both the seizure and LP had tired her out. Hotch had taken the opportunity to say a quick hello to the team before returning back to her room. In the hour she was asleep she hadn't had another seizure, which was great.

And then she awoke, with a dazed look on her face, as if she didn't know where she was. "Hey, Emily," he said softly. She offered him a weak grin. "You know, the rest of the team really wants to see you." Now she frowned.

"No," she said bluntly. "I don't want them to see me like this."

"If you're embarrassed, then don't be." His brows furrowed. "All they want to do is provide you some moral support." Emily snorted, and a hand flew to her side as a sharp pain shot up her torso.

"I don't need moral support," she said with a grimace, "I need to get out of here."

"You need to get better first." Hotch chuckled, but her expression only grew darker.

"The doctors sure didn't sound too optimistic. How do you know I _will _get better?" The beeps that sounded from the machine that she was hooked up to began to speed up slightly; her blood pressure was rising. "I have abscesses in my brain, and a tube shoved into my side. Do I look like I'm going to get better soon?" Her voice had raised a few decibels, and he was amazed that she was even speaking so clearly, what with the fluid in her lungs that the chest tube was attempting to drain out. But to be honest, her head was throbbing and she felt lightheaded.

"Emily, I-"

"-Hotch, I can't take this anymore." Her voice cracked, and a single sob escaped from between her lips. "I don't want to die. I can't." He felt his stomach do a somersault. Did Emily really think that she was going to die? Was she already giving up? This wasn't at all like her; she wasn't her normal self.

"Emily, you're not going to die. The doctors are going to figure out what's wrong with you."

"You can't promise that!" she exclaimed, and then devolved into a mess of tears. Hotch did the best he could to comfort her, trying to wrap his arms around her without disturbing any of the machinery that was attached. "I haven't done everything I've wanted to…I want a husband, a family..children."

"Emily, I swear to you that you will walk out of this hospital, alive and well. I'm not going to let anyone else close to me leave." Of course, he was still pressing the empty promises, but he had nothing else to say. What could he? That she might possibly be killed by whatever unknown infection was attacking her body? No!

He was Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. It was his job to keep everyone on track, and as they all knew, he did not stop working even when the UNSUB was caught. He was going to make sure Emily knew that he'd make sure she'd be alright, even if in this case the UNSUB was a disease.

He held her until she regained herself. And then she had seemed embarrassed, only muttering a quiet thanks before she was silent.

* * *

At last, Hotch had managed to convince Emily to let the rest of the team visit her. Of course, they had all rushed into the room, ignoring the nurse's complaints that they were over capacity. Rossi, though, did heed the warnings, and he spent just a few minutes in there before he left. Reid quickly followed a few moments later. They did want to be there to support Emily, but neither had much to say. They'd much rather let the others chat it up. Hotch had headed down to the cafeteria for a much-needed cup of coffee while JJ, Garcia, and Morgan stayed in the hospital room.

"My poor chicky!" Garcia had exclaimed as soon as she entered the room. "How are you feeling?"

"The same way I look," joked Emily feebly. She took Hotch's seat, and Morgan and JJ pulled over two more chairs.

"Emily, you always look beautiful," Morgan said with a cocky grin. She shot him a glare.

"Don't try to flatter me, Derek Morgan. Don't tell me I'm beautiful as I lie here in a hospital bed." He held up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, girl."

"Ignore him, Em," laughed JJ.

"You know, I think a coffee would sound good right about now." Morgan stood and made his way towards the door. "I'll let you three have your girl time.." He slipped out of the room, and immediately Garcia and JJ sprung forward like lions to meat, and JJ asked, "So, what's going on between you and Hotch?"

"What?" The quick reply that Emily provided made her chest ache.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I really don't, Jayje." She did. There was no doubt that she knew what they were talking about. But, of course, she wasn't about to admit it.

"Hon, I may not be a profiler," chuckled Garcia lightheartedly, "but I know _amour _when I see it. Hotch is your Romeo, my dear, and don't try to deny that."

"Garcia!" chided Emily, taken aback at the techie's blanket statement. "I don't even know where you came up with that-"

"-Sure you don't, Em," JJ said with a smug grin when she saw the red tint that was beginning to appear on Emily's cheeks.

"You guys..I'm sick. I don't need to be interrogated right now."

"She's got a point," agreed Garcia.

"Thanks, PG." She sighed.

"But, my lovely lady, when you are well, the interrogation will commence once again. And you will realize, if you haven't already, that you and Hotch share more feelings for each other than you realize."

It was amusing to see how quickly Emily's emotions changed. This Hotch noticed as he stood outside her hospital room, looking in through the glass doors as she chatted with her fellow female teammates. She didn't look like the woman that had been sobbing in his arms barely an hour before. Now, even in her sickness, she looked happy. She was _glowing_. What could Garcia and JJ possibly be saying to her to make her look like that?

* * *

"Maybe if you had spent more time diagnosing instead of prying into your patient's personal life, you could've had this case solved already." Cuddy leaned against her desk, reprimanding House, who sat in an armchair.

"Patient history is important," he countered, arching a brow, daring Cuddy to figure out a comeback. With a sigh, the dean of medicine turned to her desk and flipped open Emily's patient file.

"Agent Prentiss has had a few concussions, stitches, et cetera. But none of this would contribute to an infection, House!"

"She was taken hostage in a cult, been in a car accident because of a murderer. You don't find any of that interesting?"

"No, I find it sad."

"That's boring." He crossed his arms. "I tried to get Thirteen to go home."

"She didn't want to. She doesn't have to. It's her choice."

"She was almost killed."

"You don't find that interesting as well?" she huffed, slamming down the file on the table before she took a seat at her desk.

"Well, no." He grimaced in sympathy for his employee, an action he rarely did. "Who knows what else was on that knife. Let's hope nothing got in through the wound…" He trailed off, his eyes glazed over.

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Cuddy crossed her arms. "House, get back to work. I don't want an FBI agent dying on me; it won't look good for the hospital." He stood up, quickly hobbling towards the double doors. Cuddy was surprised he was actually listening for once.

"You won't have to worry about that," he called back as he opened the door to make an exit. "I know what's wrong with her."

* * *

Author's Note: A whole mixture of emotions in this chapter, eh? I tried to incorporate a little bit of humor into this story, because so many of my others are extremely dark. I apologize for the late update; I had to finish up school and finals before I could focus on my writing. Thanks for being so patient, and for reading and reviewing. Don't forget to tell me what you thought of this chapter as well. There's only going to be a chapter or two more until this story is finished up.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Mind or House MD. All original characters belong to me. Any similarities to real life persons, in name or description, are strictly coincidental.

* * *

13.

House wasted no time in making his way to his patient's room, although he was a bit disheartened as he saw the amount of people in there. It looked as if she had crammed the whole FBI unit she worked with in there, which did turn out to be true. Once the men had returned from their coffee break, they had all gathered into Emily's room with the girls. And once House and his own team squeezed into there, it would definitely constitute as a fire hazard. But since when had House been a stickler for rules?

He met Foreman, Chase, Taub, and Thirteen outside the sliding glass door. He could feel the prying eyes of the agents as they strode into the room.

"Unless you can tell us what's wrong, get out," hissed Hotch, aiming a piercing glare at the older doctor.

"Then you're in luck," House retorted, dragging a chair over so he was directly facing Emily. She looked by far weaker than she had when he'd first admitted her. Instead of that strong, defiant FBI agent he'd briefly met, she looked frail, as if she took one step she'd break. And although he hadn't spent much time with her, he'd heard from both Wilson and his team of doctors that she was quite an impressive woman.

She crossed her arms. "So, are you just going to sit there, or are you going to tell me?" He almost laughed. Even in her sickness, she was bold.

He tapped his cane against the floor. "You have disseminated nocardiosis." Simultaneously, his doctors took in a sharp intake of breath; a gasp of surprise.

"It's so rare," murmured Thirteen.

"Which is why we never considered it," Foreman shot back.

"And the tests are pretty inconclusive unless you know exactly what you're looking for," added in Chase.

"It'd be helpful if you could explain what it is," snorted Rossi from his spot in the corner.

"I was getting to that." House again turned back to face Emily. "It's an infectious disease. You were in a car accident recently, in which you received a laceration to your arm, right?"

"Yes." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hotch placed a comforting hand on her arm for support.

"Did your wound come in contact with any soil?" She briefly flashed back to that night, when she'd crawled out of the mangled corpse of the car and crawled through the dirt in an attempt to chase down Shrader and his partner.

"Yes." A smug grin appeared on House's face.

"The infection got into your body when contaminated soil came in contact with your wound."

"And even with those circumstances, you never thought to test for this?" There was Rossi again, always extremely opinionated.

"As Dr. Hadley mentioned before, the disease is _incredibly _rare," he replied, annoyed.

"Is it treatable?" Emily asked the question it seemed that the rest of them had been too afraid to utter.

"We'll need to do a few more tests, to make sure it really is nocardiosis," he said, disguising his unhappiness about having to share that even this diagnosis wasn't sure, "but with long term antibiotic treatment and a lot of bed rest, Agent Prentiss should be fine."

"Long term?" she squeaked, suddenly more afraid that she'd be missing out on a lot of work, rather than that she'd been _this _close to dying. "How long is _long term_?"

"The medicinal therapy should continue for at least six months," interjected Foreman, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Six months?" Now she looked close to passing out. House had already hobbled out of the room, and after exchanging glances between themselves, the rest of the doctors followed him. Rossi decided to speak up and say,

"I'm sure Emily is tired. Why don't we all give her a chance to absorb all this?" With a wink directed towards Hotch, he d herded the rest of the BAU team out of the room. Hotch took his normal seat at her bedside.

"Six months, Hotch," she repeated, looking incredulous. "How am I supposed to stay cooped up inside my apartment for _six months_?"

"I'll make a deal with you," he said with a grin, sliding his hand into hers. She cocked an eyebrow.

"A deal? I thought you didn't like deals."

He shuddered at the memories her statement brought up, before continuing, "This one will be good for both of us. If you stay at home for the six months and keep yourself busy getting better, I'll keep you informed on all the cases."

"I'd rather be out in the field," she huffed, but seeing a lecture starting to bubble forth from his lips, she said quickly, "but it's a good compromise."

* * *

The next morning, they were headed home. The tests had confirmed it: Emily had disseminated nocardiosis, and a six-month round of antibiotics would surely kill all traces of the disease from her system. She was finally able to change from the uncomfortable hospital gown to a t-shirt and a pair of fatigues that hung a bit more loosely on her than normal. Begrudgingly, she allowed Thirteen and Chase to push her out of the hospital in a wheelchair. Hotch followed closely at her side. The rest of the BAU had gone back to the hotel to pack up; they would meet them at the airport.

To everyone's surprise, including the two doctor's, House stood near the exit with his arms crossed. Cuddy sat on the bench next to him, and immediately got up when she saw them heading her way. It seemed that Foreman and Taub hadn't deemed Emily an important enough patient to say goodbye too, or they were too busy.

"I hope your stay was as pleasant as possible, Agent Prentiss" said Cuddy, a fake smile plastered across the lower half of her face. Emily simply nodded, rubbing the sore spot underneath her t-shirt, where the chest tube had been inserted just the day before. She was still having trouble breathing, but she had been assured it would clear up soon.

Hotch stepped up to face House. Everyone watched the moment unfold with amusement. Emily wasn't sure if Hotch would punch out the doctor, because although it would be totally unlike him to do so, that fire in his eyes said otherwise. Instead, he held out his hand. "Thank you."

A little quirk of his lips played on House's face as he grabbed Hotch's hand and shook it. "My pleasure."

"I'm sure it was."

* * *

A few days later, once the BAU had returned to Virginia and all hospital procedures had returned to what had been deemed as normal by House's standards, he received a handwritten note from none other than Emily Prentiss.

_Dear Dr. House, _-it had read-

_I'd like to say how thankful I am that you were my doctor. Surely I wouldn't been able to write this if it had not been for you. To repay you, I'd like to invite you for a tour of the FBI Academy, and of the BAU's workplace. Just give me a call when you'd like to visit._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss_

Her business card had been stapled to the bottom. She'd known that Hotch wouldn't be happy when House showed up at the BAU, with Emily's written consent to be there. House knew that as well, which was probably the cause of the grin that made its way onto his face.

* * *

There was, not surprisingly, a knock at Emily's door one night, about a month after her discharge from Princeton-Plainsborough. Hotch had been coming over almost every night he was in town not working on a case, to see how she was doing, maybe even eat dinner with her or watch television. Once or twice he'd brought Jack over as well, and with the little boy also came much joy for both of them.

It was almost seven at night when this visit from the unit chief came. From reading over the case file he'd slipped her earlier that week, she knew that he must've just arrived back home from Houston, after working on a case in which a serial killer had been drowning his victims.

He looked exhausted, but content when she opened the door, still dressed in his suit. "How'd the case go?" she asked.

He had on a sort of half-grin. "We caught him before he got to another victim."

"Great." It was bittersweet to hear the news, because she wished she had been right there alongside them, chasing down the UNSUB. But judging by the coughing fits and headaches that still plagued her, she certainly wasn't ready to head back into the field.

She stepped aside to let him through the doorway, and he held up two plastic bags. "I hope you haven't had dinner yet, because I brought Chinese food and a movie."

"I was actually waiting to see if you'd show up," she said in reply as she shut the door. "I knew the case wouldn't be a long one."

"I'm flattered." He set the bags down on the countertop. "Have you been taking your meds?"

"Every day." She gestured to the whole of her apartment with outstretched arms. "I think I'm going stir-crazy."

"Five more months," he reminded her.

"How will I survive?" she sighed.

"Don't worry. I'll be here to help you through it."

* * *

Author's Note: The end! I hope you guys enjoyed it, because I sure enjoyed writing it. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, etc. Don't forget to tell me what you think of the end!


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